


Lose Your Soul

by xbellonax



Series: The Inevitability of Character in Divine Destiny [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Character Death, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21777955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xbellonax/pseuds/xbellonax
Summary: As a young girl, Cassandra Lestrange had vowed she would never partake in the same kind of crazed violence that sent her parents to Azkaban when she was a toddler. But a prophecy has been foretold, and a new threat looms over Hogwarts. With more to lose than ever, she might not have a choice in whether or not she will get to keep her hands clean.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Inevitability of Character in Divine Destiny [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569406
Comments: 23
Kudos: 60





	1. Fast As You Can

**Author's Note:**

> Every chapter in this story is titled after a Fiona Apple song. If you haven't heard of her, check her out. Or not, but that would be a very unwise choice.

As the rain raged over her, soaking her robes and obscuring her vision, Cassandra ducked and weaved, trying to avoid the curses being rapidly fired in her direction. She could feel her legs burning as she ran down the long, narrow path in the woods. The sound of her boots slapping muddy soil matched the rapid thumps of her heart. Sweat and rainwater had turned her braid into a heavy rope that whipped at her lower back.

Just as she made a sharp left, a blasting curse hit the ground beneath her feet, launching her in the air. When her body hit the ground, she rolled with the impact and propelled herself forward, ignoring the searing pain in her right ankle. Without looking back, she cast stunning spell after stunning spell behind her, hoping to get her pursuer with a lucky hit. Hearing a booming masculine laugh, she ran harder, choking down the cold air, sprinting into the pain.

Once she crossed the pine trees that marked the end of the woods that surrounded the Lestrange property, Cassandra saw her grandfather standing at their front porch. Cygnus Black III was a towering figure: tall and aristocratic, with quick grey eyes, short salt and pepper hair always worn combed back, and skin pale as parchment. Even from a distance, Cassandra could see the thin line of the wizard's disapproving lips as he glanced at the timer spelled to hover above him.

The ticking seconds echoed inside Cassandra's head. She pushed herself to run faster. The tendons cording through her legs wailed for relief. The burning moved to her lungs. Her wand felt slippery in her hand.

Fifty meters. Thirty. Ten.

Once she got within reach she aimed up, and freezed the timer with a spell. 68 minutes and 34 seconds. That's how long it took her to find and revive the seven creatures that had been stunned and hidden in the woods, all while evading a wizard trying to incapacitate her.

She came to a halt right in front of her grandfather, her hands in her knees, breathing in painful lungfuls of air.

"Slower than yesterday," he said, and without another word, turned and walked into the house.

Cassandra scowled at his back, rubbing her shaking thighs. Since she had come back from Hogwarts, there was a new harshness to her grandfather that upset her. She understood why he was on edge, with the possibility of the Dark Lord's return looming in their horizon, but that knowledge did little to comfort her. She missed the man who had embraced her during Yule, and promised to always listen to her.

She startled when she heard a loud pop behind her, and turned around to face the wizard who had been chasing her.

"Slower than yesterday," Boris Ivanovich said in a thick russian accent, and for a brief moment Cassandra wanted to stun her instructor and watch as her raven pecked his eyes out. Not that she would dare. The gruff old wizard who taught her during the summers was a retired Durmstrang Dark Arts professor, who had fought in and survived the Global Wizarding War. If she raised her wand at him he would likely annihilate her, as he nearly always did in their dueling practices. If she ever had to kill him, she would use poison, or a ritual that could be performed from a safe distance.

That he was standing in front of her, dry and nonchalant while she was wet, dirty and visibly exhausted didn't improve her mood any, however. He got to apparate when hunting her, while she had to run through the dense woods by foot, in order to ' _replicate real combat conditions_ ', since she wouldn't be old enough to obtain her apparating license for a couple years yet. She would teach herself to fly without a broom out of pure spite at some point.

"I'll do better next time, sir," she said, swallowing down a snappish response, as she did whenever he criticized her performance during one of his training exercises. She hated herself for her failures much more than she hated him for pointing them out. That was his job, after all.

"You do better, or when it counts, you will die," Mr. Ivanovich replied, as he did every time he heard her make that vow. "You will think about what you did wrong. Next time I will not be so easy on you. I could have aimed blasting curse at your legs, not at ground beneath your feet."

"Then you should have, sir," Cassandra said, only somewhat bitterly. Fourteen days had passed since the beginning of her summer lessons, and she felt every minute of those days in her body right then. She was allowed healing potions for bleeding wounds and broken bones, but anything minor had to heal naturally. Her tutor insisted she should be able to perform with her body bruised and sore, because she would likely be forced to in real life. If he had broken her legs, she would've been able to take a potion, and woken up completely restored the next morning. With only a twisted ankle, she would have to limp on a splinted foot for the rest of the week.

"Cygnus said your young man is coming to meet him today, yes? I did not think you want to spend afternoon regrowing bones in your legs instead of making yourself pretty, but maybe I was wrong. I am old man, after all," he said with a shrug.

Cassandra didn't roll her eyes out of respect. It was offensive that the man thought it took her that much effort to look beautiful. But then again, he mostly saw her covered in sweat and grime. "Yes, sir," she answered, "my boyfriend and his parents are coming for dinner tonight. If grandfather hasn't extended an invitation yet, please consider yourself invited to dine with us."

"I will greatly enjoy watching your grandfather test your young suitor, маленькая ворона," he said. "It is important for man to know that with love of good woman, comes father that will maim you if you hurt her. It keeps us in check."

"You think too little of me, sir," she replied coolly. "My boyfriend knows I'm perfectly capable of maiming him myself."

It wasn't until later, while she showered off the mud that covered nearly every exposed inch of her skin, that Cassandra thought of what Mr. Ivanovich had said. She didn't think her grandfather would be overtly hostile towards Cedric, having given his blessing to their relationship, but the inner workings of the Black patriarch's mind were a mystery to her these days. The time he didn't spend brewing potions in his laboratory or watching her train, he spent locked in his study, ' _making preparations'_ for the war they knew was coming. When she had asked him what those preparations entailed, he'd refused to elaborate, insisting she should focus on her lessons.

She couldn't really object to that directive. Realistically, what else could she do? She had been an infant during the last wizarding war, and didn't have any knowledge or insight that her grandfather lacked, that could contribute to his planning. She had read all there was to read about the conflict, but he had lived it. Survived it, when so many others had not. The best course of action she could see was, in fact, to throw herself into her training. Unlike most, she had received a warning of what was to come, and she wouldn't squander it - she would make sure she was skilled enough to protect herself and those she loved when the time to fight came.

Her mind went to Cedric again. She hoped that after tonight's dinner, his parents would agree to him joining her in her lessons for the rest of the summer. They had been hesitant to upon learning of her instructor's qualifications, fearing his proficiency in the Dark Arts, but hopefully meeting the former teacher in person would mollify them. If not, she would ask her grandfather to intervene in her and her boyfriend's behalf. Not many people could muster up the nerve to deny Cygnus Black, and she certainly didn't expect the Diggorys to be able to.

After stepping out of the shower, she quickly dried herself up with a spell and went into her bedroom, where a few outfits Mimi had selected from her closet hovered in the air. Every few moments, the clothes would move to show themselves from a different angle, as if being showcased by invisible models trying to sell the garments to her. Cassandra examined the house-elf's display, trying to decide what to wear. She doubted Cedric would care much about her choice in garment, but she wanted greatly to impress his parents.

She had relayed in her invitation that the dinner would be a formal affair, so protocol dictated the men should come in dress robes. Older pureblood witches favored embroidered robes in rich fabrics for formal occasions, while her mother's generation preferred evening gowns with full skirts, long sleeves and fitted bodices. Purebloods her own age tended to wear less rigidly-built dresses, with looser skirts and lighter fabrics. Cassandra would usually mirror in her own clothes the style preferred by an event's hostess or by her grandfather's guest of honor, if they were the ones hosting, but she didn't know if Mrs. Diggory, being a half-blood, followed the wizarding or muggle fashion. Should she go for something understated, to avoid making the other woman look underdressed, or would her guests consider that a slight, as if she hadn't deemed their visit important enough to warrant something more elegant? She threw herself on her bed with a huff, frustrated at how much she cared about something so trivial. Being in a relationship had truly made her stupid.

In the end, Cassandra let the disconcerting, yet sincere remarks made by Mr. Diggory on the day they were introduced guide her. At King's Cross, the wizard had said that being invited to dine at the Lestrange manor was an honor to him, even with the shame of her parents' imprisonment. The excitement made sense, coming from a mid-level Ministry employee from a mundane wizarding family. It wasn't likely that the Diggorys were invited to socialize with members of Britain's pureblood high-society often, and Death Eater relatives or not, that's what she and her grandfather were. The best approach for the evening would not be to try to appear lower in station than they really were, but to impress upon Cedric's parents - his father specially, how much their son had to gain from his relationship with her. She was going to _dazzle_ them.

For that, she chose a full skirted, off the shoulder pale silver gown, with sheer puff sleeves and a fitted bodice that ended on her hips. It was diaphanous and ethereal, something that a witch from a fairytale might've worn. To add to that effect, she twisted her hair up and adorned it with scattered pearls of different sizes, which contrasted with her black locks in a captivating manner. She looked like a more refined, adult version of herself. Like her mother did in the photographies she kept in a locked box beneath her bed.

After dressing up, she busied herself with last minute preparations. She decorated the first floor of the house with vases of flowers freshly cut from the gardens, that filled the rooms with a pleasant fragrance; took out a charmed string sextet from the attic and placed it in the drawing room, setting it to play Brahms; and in a whim, transfigured the landscape painting that hung above the the fireplace from which guests entered the manor to her family's coat of arms. She stared at the fireplace for a while, eager and afraid for the arrival of their guests. Eventually, she noticed her grandfather's presence behind her, and turned her head to look at him. They stared at each other for a few seconds.

"What?" She asked hesitantly. These days, his heavy silences were followed by horrifying statements like, ' _The Dark Lord is not dead, Cassandra_ '.

He came forward until they were side by side. "I was part of a scene very similar to this one, a long time ago." He offered her his right arm, elbow bent. It was a gentlemanly gesture, characteristic of the indulgent parental figure she had been missing that summer, and she was inordinately grateful for it. She primly looped her hand under the offered arm to rest it over his forearm, and he led them on a leisurely walk around the anteroom. "Back then, instead of you, it was your mother, waiting for your father and his family at Black End Hall. We formalized their engagement that night, and they married not long after."

She didn't know what to say to that. As a child, she had asked him and her aunts to tell her all they could about her parents, and knew their marriage had been one of convenience, arranged by their families; they had accepted and respected each other, but there had been no romantic love between them.

"You can have any wizard in Britain, Cassandra. Anyone you wish, I will get you," he continued. "Are you sure it's this boy you choose?"

"Yes," she answered at once. "He knows me, he knows what's going to happen, and he's still willing to stand by my side."

"Some would call that kind of devotion stupid," he said.

"Not a Lestrange," she replied, thinking of the family that had left her to search for the Dark Lord, even when everyone else believed him dead, and never returned.

"No," her grandfather said ruefully, "not a Lestrange."

The Diggorys arrived not much later, joining her, her grandfather and Boris Ivanovich in the Lestrange Manor drawing room, where they were entertained before dinner commenced. Cedric remarked on how beautiful she looked, how brightly her eyes shone, how much he'd missed her. She noticed all the new things about him, that had changed in the weeks they'd been apart. He had spent that time visiting some cousins in Spain, and his handsome complexion had benefited from the time under the sun; there were freckles on his nose, his skin had a tan that spoke of wholesome vigor, and his brown hair was now lit with honey streaks. He looked every bit the golden boy that he was, and Cassandra felt herself basking in the brightness of his presence.

Mrs. Diggory, good-looking and cordial, was wearing the traditional dress robes customarily donned by pureblood witches twice her age, a choice that did her figure no favors, but pleased Cygnus Black, as did her lively disposition and agreeable manners. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of her husband. Mr. Diggory's uninhibited personality, that at once vexed and amused Cassandra, chafed against her grandfather's rigid propriety.

The hall, the dining room, and all the decorations were examined and praised by the Diggorys, and their admiration of everything would've been wholly pleasing if not for Mr. Diggory's mortifying enquiry as to whether any items had been damaged by the Ministry during their search of the mansion for Dark objects after her parents' arrest. Cassandra tried not to grimace at the inappropriate question, and answered she did not remember, being so young at the time.

"Can you believe, our children in love," Mr. Diggory - _'Call me Amos, please, and if I may call you Cygnus?_ ' - gushed to her grandfather, clasping his hands together. Cedric looked at her worriedly, and she shook her head discreetly, signaling him not to intervene. It was obvious to her, and to everyone else at the table, that Mr. Diggory's sentimentality made her stern grandfather uncomfortable, but he would not appreciate being rescued from their conversation, as if he were incapable of handling the other wizard.

"It came as quite a shock," her grandfather answered.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Diggory asked, guileless. Cassandra drank a mouthful of wine, ignoring the lobster tagliatelle in front of her in favor of exchanging sympathetic looks with her boyfriend. This was excruciating.

"Cassandra had never humored any talk of boys, so I assumed romance wasn't something she was interested in, and that it would fall to me to make her a proper match when the time came," her grandfather said. "Her mother was like that, as well."

She looked at her grandfather sharply. She knew what he was doing, bringing up her similarities to her mother with Cedric's parents, trying to make them uncomfortable. He didn't look back at her, and she was left glaring curses at his profile. Cedric rested her foot against hers, reassuring. She took a calming breath, in and out, and focused on rearranging the food on her plate.

"Well," Mr. Diggory tried, "that's because she hadn't been wooed by our Ced yet! Charming lad, he is, and straight Os, as well. Isn't that right, honey?" he said, turning to Mrs. Diggory.

"Yes, Cedric is a very dedicated student, and we're very proud of him. I hear you have plenty of reasons to be proud of Cassandra in that regard, as well," Mrs. Diggory replied with a genial smile.

"Hogwarts' curriculum has not proven itself particularly challenging for wizards of good breeding for many decades now, but no one can hope to question Cassandra's aptitude as a witch, nor her diligence in bettering herself," her grandfather said. "What would you say of your pupil, Boris?"

"The girl is talented like any wizard I ever dueled, and twice more vicious. It is good, for pretty witches to be vicious. In fight, they are first choice in victims," Mr. Ivanovich said. "Is your soon good fighter?"

Mr. Diggory seemed startled by that question. "I suppose I've never- We're not-"

"I've never been formally trained," Cedric interrupted his father smoothly, "but I would like to be. Is it true Dueling is a discipline at Durmstrang?"

"Of course," Mr. Ivanovich said, "it should be in Hogwarts too, if the British were not so coddling to the children. They do not even teach the Dark Arts at your school, yes?"

"We've had our fill of warmongering dark wizards, sir," Mr. Diggory said with sobriety. "I cannot see what would be gained by teaching children such things."

"Those who will make war do not need school to teach them the Dark Arts, they will seek the knowledge needed to commit their atrocities by whatever means necessary. And they only gain from the others' ignorance. How can you fight what you do not know? I would not have survived the war against Grindelwald if I had not understood the ways of other side," Mr. Ivanovich replied.

"You fought _against_ Grindelwald?" Mrs. Diggory asked, with naked surprise.

"Yes. I was young... Auror, I think you say, back home. Many of my colleagues were killed in the name of that выродок. The ones who survived, did because we knew how to fight like his army," the wizard said.

"Professor Ivanovich was invited to teach at Durmstrang because of his actions during the war," Cassandra added, feeling that would be the way to convince Cedric's parents of the wizard's worthiness as an instructor. "He was awarded the Russian Ministry's equivalent to an Order of Merlin, first class, for saving a Muggle village from being attacked by a chimaera let loose by one of Grindelwald's acolytes." Her targets looked suitably impressed by that.

"Cassandra was rather disappointed when your son did not join her for her lessons at the beginning of the summer. I understand that was your choice," her grandfather said to Mr. and Mrs. Diggory.

"We only want what's best for our son," Mr. Diggory replied sheepishly.

"And you do not believe being privately tutored by a condecorated war hero would be beneficial to his education? Or are you so prejudiced against the Dark Arts you would keep him from learning to defend himself?" her grandfather asked calmly.

"We never meant any offense," Mrs. Diggory intervened before her husband could answer. "We simply weren't aware of the Professor's heroic feats, and were hesitant to have an unknown person teaching our son." she said. "I'm sure you understand our… selectiveness concerning Cedric's educators."

"That should no longer be a problem, then," her grandfather said with finality, and nodded with satisfaction when Mr. and Mrs. Diggory agreed. He turned to their son, then. "I understand my family is used to doing things a lot differently from yours, son, so I'll spare all of us any misunderstandings and be direct. How serious are you about my granddaughter?"

"Very serious, sir," Cedric answered, straightening his posture.

"Serious enough for marriage?"

"Grandfather!" Cassandra cut in.

"You are both going to be fifteen within the year," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "That's certainly old enough for a betrothal contract, at least."

Cedric looked at her, searching for an answer. "No one's getting betrothed tonight," she retorted firmly, turning to stare down her guardian. "With all due respect, grandfather, if and when that does happen, it will not be by your interference."

As soon as the Diggorys stepped through the floo, leaving the house, Cassandra rounded on her grandfather, her friendly smile dropping from her face.

"What did you think you were doing?" She demanded, with venom in her tone. It was unlike her to speak to him in such a manner, but dinner had been a subdued affair after their quarrel, and the wine she had kept drinking in hopes to dull the edges of her embarrassment had only made her angrier. "Why on Merlin's name would you bring up a betrothal contract? What is this, the Middle Ages?"

"I am only trying to protect you, Cassandra," he replied evenly.

She sneered. "Protect me? Is that what you call trying to make me a child bride?"

"You are the one who chose the boy."

"To be my boyfriend! Not my bloody husband! I'm FOURTEEN!"

"What you are is a FOOL!" Her grandfather roared. She flinched, unused to his anger. "You think this is what I want for you? To marry you off to the first lovestruck boy that suits your fancy? You were meant for so much better than this. But what do you think is going to happen when the blasted war comes, and your parents get out from Azkaban? Because I assure you, when the Dark Lord rises again, he will find a way to release them. And all the freedom, all the protections your family name afford you now will be gone - like that!" He said, snapping his fingers.

Cassandra stepped back, her mouth suddenly dry. "I didn't-"

"It is in your best interest to be married when that time comes, child. I am doing all I can to ensure you won't be without allies, but do not doubt for a second your parents will pull you wand-first into their madness as soon as they're able to. You think me pushing you to marry a boy from a family of nobodies is bad? You have NO IDEA what they had planned for you! You were to be your mother's sacrifi-"

"STOP!" Cassandra screamed, and yelled again in surprise when a small body collided against her, making her fall to the ground, flat on her back. She noticed then the ringing in her ears, and the shards of glass stuck against the protective barrier Mimi had erected around them. She blinked, trying to get her bearings, and sat up slowly. Her grandfather had his wand drawn, and was wiping blood from a small cut on his face. When she looked around, she noticed every window, as well as the crystal vases and all the glass in the furniture had shattered in what seemed to have been a bout of accidental magic on her part.

"Are you hurt?" Her grandfather asked, reaching for her.

"No, Mimi got to me," she answered meekly, avoiding his hand.

"It wasn't my intention to-"

"I can't take this right now," she said, and ran out of the room, out of the house, and kept running until she was joined by Klaus, who flew above her into the woods where she wasn't a Lestrange, wasn't anyone's daughter or granddaughter, where there wasn't any prophecy looming in her future and her choices belonged only to herself.


	2. Left Alone

Cassandra was on the verge of falling asleep, her head resting comfortably against Sally's neck, her body warm under the snallygaster's wing. She could feel the up and down of the beast's chest as it breathed in and out, and smell the earthy scent of its feathers. Those sensations were comforting to her. She was abruptly jarred to alertness by the sound of a branch snapping, and the feeling of Sally tensing up around her. Cassandra looked around, but couldn't see far beyond the trees around her in the darkness of the new moon night.

But the sound didn't lie. There was something approaching. Now that she was paying attention, she thought she could hear the crunching of leaves on the trail that led to Sally's nest, at the heart of the grove that surrounded Lestrange Manor. Coming closer. It could be an animal, but not many creatures, magical or not, would risk intruding upon a snallygaster's nest. With its serrated steel fangs, the part-bird, part-lizard, dragon-like creature that could stand twice as tall as a full-grown man, was an apex predator.

With the tactical drills from the past weeks too fresh on her mind for her to dismiss the signs of a possible attack, Cassandra drew out her wand and whispered, "Homenum Revelio." A shining, translucent arrow-like shape shot out in the direction she'd heard the noises coming from, and stopped about fifteen meters south from her position, confirming the presence of another person. Who? When she'd stormed out of the house after her altercation with her grandfather, the only people there had been the wizard himself, who knew better than to roam the woods at night, and Mr. Ivanovich, who had retreated into the guest wing after dinner, most likely to knock himself into a firewhisky-induced sleep not even a banshee could rouse him from.

Cassandra considered the slim odds of someone trespassing on Lestrange property with good intentions, and quietly slipped off her heels. The better choice would've been to transfigure them into running boots, but transfiguration was her weak point, and she wouldn't chance taking her focus away from the possible attacker to perform a non-offensive spell. Besides, she didn't plan on running. If someone wanted a fight, she had a lot of anger to burn through.

"I know you're out there," she called out in a sing-song voice, quietly crouching up behind Sally. It was a good cover, she thought. The magical creature's bulletproof hide would protect her against weaker spells, and she'd be able to see what was coming. "Unless you want to be eaten by a beast with very sharp fangs, you should stop right where you are, and announce yourself."

"It's me," a familiar male voice answered.

"Cedric?" Cassandra asked dubiously. Hearing an affirmative response, she cast a wand-lightning charm in order to confirm she was indeed talking to her boyfriend. Once she saw him, she stood up and put her shoes back on. "What on earth are you doing here?" He was wearing different clothes from the dress robes he'd worn for dinner, but thankfully didn't look as if he'd run into any trouble in the woods. Swooping down from the treetops, Klaus landed on her shoulder, and she realized why. "Did Klaus show you the way? I was wondering where he was. I was about to hex the life out of you."

"I'm glad you didn't," Cedric said, eyeing Sally carefully. It eyed him back curiously, interested in the stranger whom Cassandra was so familiar with. "What is that?" He asked.

"You really should be taking Care of Magical Creatures instead of Muggle Studies," Cassandra replied. "It's a snallygaster. Her name's Sally."

"Is it actually dangerous?" Cedric asked.

"Yes. But not to me. Come here," Cassandra said. He faltered, and she laughed.

"It's got metal fangs," Cedric said with an exasperated expression.

"And I have a wand. Come on. She can tell that I like you, she won't attack. Isn't that right, Sally?" Cassandra said, petting the creature's chest. It butted its head against Cassandra's middle, enjoying the attention.

Cedric approached them slowly, then put his hand on top of Sally's head. He petted the creature with hesitancy, relaxing when it didn't show displeasure at the contact.

"Not that I'm complaining," Cassandra said after a while, "but what _are_ you doing here? You left what, an hour ago?"

"Your grandfather floo called," Cedric said. "He convinced my parents to let me spend the rest of the summer at your house, starting tonight. Something about not limiting my learning opportunities to a few hours with Mr. Ivanovich a day. He offered to tutor me in Potions himself, I thought my dad was going to have an apoplexy. I figured the hurry wasn't for my benefit when I got here and he told me to come look for you in the woods."

"You're his apology," Cassandra said. Cedric eyed her questioningly, and she sighed. "We should go somewhere else to talk. If I get upset and Sally thinks it's because of you, she might hurt you."

With Klaus flying above them, they walked side-by-side until they reached a small clearing. Cassandra conjured a blanket for them to sit on, then cast a jet of Bluebell Flames, which she contained in a conjured glass ball that she charmed to hover above them, illuminating and warming the area. Cedric watched her spellwork with contemplative consideration. She raised an eyebrow, and he shook his head, smiling.

"You're amazing," he said, answering her unspoken question.

She closed her eyes and hugged him, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. "I missed you. Even during dinner, with you sitting right in front of me, I missed you." She felt him wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight, and her body melted against his.

He kissed her on the crown of her head, her hair, her ear. "Tell me you're alright. Tell me what I can do to help. Please."

She didn't want to revisit the awful feelings she'd run away from, but to forget them. She pulled back from him just enough to bring their mouths together. "What about this?" She whispered against his lips, and then Cedric kissed her, hard and deep. She kissed him back just as hungrily, intoxicated by the feeling of his his lips, his teeth, his tongue. For a while, there was nothing else.

"As much as I enjoy this," he said eventually, laying soft kisses on the corner of her mouth, "and I do, so much, I don't think it's going to solve anything."

"Why can't you take advantage of my disturbed emotional state to have your wicked way with me, like a regular guy?" Cassandra groaned.

Cedric laughed, and kissed her forehead. "I'm a Hufflepuff, remember?"

"Only too often," she said, laying her head on his chest.

"Tell me why you're hiding in the woods in the middle of the night," he said.

"Grandfather and I were arguing and I had a bout of accidental magic. Then I stormed out so he wouldn't see me crying." Cassandra answered.

Cedric didn't respond, waiting for her to continue.

"I don't want to die. I don't want to kill anyone. And I don't want us to get engaged just because the alternative is me being forced to marry a Death Eater when the war breaks out," Cassandra said wearily. "When I was old enough to understand the magnitude of what my family had done, why people look at me the way they do, I realized happiness probably wasn't in the cards for me. I mean, I get it. Maybe I even deserve it, for what they-"

"You don't-" Cedric protested.

"Just let me finish, all right?" Cassandra pleaded, taking a step back from the wizard. "I was fine with that, with not being happy. Not many purebloods are, anyway. But I figured with my parents in Azkaban, at least I would be free, and that almost sounded better than being happy. I wouldn't have to grow up with the weight of my family's expectations on me, always having to toe the line not to get disinherited. I'd be free to make up my own mind, and live my life however I wanted to. And now I no longer have that freedom, and I don't know how to deal with it."

"But you are free," Cedric said.

"No I'm not. The prophecy-"

"Fuck the prophecy," Cedric said firmly. Cassandra stared into his eyes, and saw just how fervently he meant those words. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"That's not how prophecies work," she replied stubbornly.

"No one knows how prophecies work. Do you think I've been reading about anything else since you told me yours? Prophecies might be fulfilled and they might not, and trying to make one happen or keep it from happening only ends in disaster," Cedric said. "Your future's _not_ set in stone. You lost your family once, and you didn't kill anyone."

"I was five."

"Still. You could've grown up to be a pureblood supremacist, and you didn't. You're not evil. You're not a killer. I'll repeat that as many times as I have to. If someone does kill your family, you can choose to let the Aurors handle it. That's their job. If you find yourself in the middle of some battle, you can choose to only fight to defend yourself. If a war does break out, we can choose to run away. We'll live like muggles if we have to, somewhere nowhere can find us," he replied.

"You'd do that?" Cassandra asked. She didn't particularly want to live as a muggle, but it touched her that he would offer to.

"I'd do anything for you, Cassandra." Cedric said. "If you wanted to go along with your grandfather's plan and get married, I'd do it."

"I refuse to let my life become a poorly written _Witch Weekly_ story," she scowled. "I'm not some helpless witch, and you're not the martyring wizard who's going to marry me out of some misguided sense of obligation to save me from a terrible fate."

"You know what I got out of that?" Cedric said after a moment.

"What?" Cassandra asked.

"That you read _Witch Weekly,_ " Cedric replied, and laughed when she punched his arm. "It's going to be okay, babe. I'm with you, every step of the way. And if I get the inkling you're becoming a crazed killer, I'll lock you in a room without your wand and vanish the key."

"Stop trying to make me laugh," she said half-heartedly, wanting anything but that.

"I don't think I will," he said. "And by the way, the whole thing about happiness not being in the cards for you? You're wrong. You are going to be happy."

"How do you know that?" Cassandra asked.

"I'll make you happy," Cedric said simply.

And for the rest of the summer, he did.

They attended lessons with Mr. Ivanovich, trained and studied together; on the afternoons Cedric spent with her grandfather, being tutored on the finer points of potion-making Professor Snape didn't bother teaching students below N.E.W.T. level, Cassandra worked quietly from the back of the laboratory, brewing advanced potions from a list her grandfather had produced, and sneaking looks at her boyfriend.

She acquainted Cedric with the various magical creatures that inhabited the property, as well as many of the plants and fungi that Professor Sprout talked about with wonder, but couldn't grow at Hogwarts for lack of funding or difficulty in procuring rare seedlings. In return, he introduced her to Muggle literature, a passion of his half-blood mother that had been passed down to him.

In their free time they played Quidditch, laid down on the grass outside reading or talking, and looked for private spots where they could kiss and explore each other, like the eager teenagers they were. Despite a promise she made to Cedric late one night while they stared at the stars, to not let the words of the prophecy haunt her thoughts, at times Cassandra would catch herself staring at him, trying to burn in her brain the memories of them just as they were then - happy, together, yet untouched by the tragedy her future held.

"I hate him," Cassandra said with irritation, closing the book in her hands. Klaus croaked from his place atop her left shoulder, echoing the sentiment.

"Who?" Cedric said, raising his eyes from Maxwell Barnett's _Guide to Advanced Occlumency_ to look at her from across the small circular table that separated them. They were sitting on the outside area of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, reading in companionable silence while they waited for Adrian to arrive. They had agreed to do their shopping together the day after receiving their Hogwarts lists, to avoid the crowds that swarmed Diagon Alley as September 1st approached, but Adrian was running late.

"Frankenstein," Cassandra huffed. "What kind of pathetic excuse for a Necromancer _runs away_ from their charge after bringing it to life, without even giving it any instructions? Why create it in the first place, then? He knew what the Monster looked like before he animated it. Coward."

"That's your gripe with him, not that he created a murderous monster, but that he abandoned it?" Cedric asked with amusement.

"I would hardly call the Monster a murderer. The blame for its kills falls entirely on Victor, in my opinion. If I somehow created an entirely new sapient magical creature, and neglected to teach it anything - didn't give it a code of ethics, didn't teach it the laws of civilized society - and then it killed someone, would you blame me for the death, or the creature?" Cassandra challenged him.

Cedric put his book down on the table and pondered the question for a while before answering her. "Both, I think. You're responsible for creating it and not teaching it right from wrong, but if a creature is capable of intelligent thought, then it follows it would also be capable of empathy. Even if I had never been explicitly told that killing is bad, I can't imagine hurting someone and not stopping as soon as I realized they were in pain. Unless the death was an accident, or in self-defense, then the creature does bear responsibility for it, and I would call it a murderer."

"That's not fair. Think abo- Aunt Andromeda!" Cassandra exclaimed with surprise, noticing her aunt looking at her from across the street. Her mother's sister, who'd been disowned by the Black family for marrying a muggleborn, appeared to be shopping with her daughter Nymphadora. The young metamorphmagus seemed to be playing with a cat-kneazle displayed in front of the Magical Menagerie by giving her own face cat-like features.

Cassandra had met her older cousin at Hogwarts, but during the two years they had attended school together before Nymphadora graduated, they had only interacted a handful of times. Their lack of familiarity wasn't due to her cousin's half-blood status, however. Cassandra thought Nymphadora was loud and obnoxious, and the older girl saw her pureblood little cousin as a stuck-up snob. As a result, they had gladly stayed out of each other's way.

Her daughter's poor opinion of her niece notwithstanding, Andromeda had continued writing her and sending her birthday presents, something she was thankful for. She liked her aunt, and enjoyed exchanging letters with her, even if their communication was occasionally made awkward by Andromeda's complete refusal to acknowledge any mention of her father, who played a big part in Cassandra's life as her guardian.

"Tonks is your cousin whose mother got kicked out of the family?" Cedric said with bewilderment as he saw the pair made their way to their table.

"Tonks?" Cassandra asked, her hackles rising. "I hadn't realized you knew her."

"I don't," Cedric said, instantly catching his girlfriend's pointed tone. "I don't think we've ever said a word to each other. Everyone in Hufflepuff knows of her; she almost drove Professor Sprout into an early retirement with her pranks."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything. She wouldn't be caught dead having an argument with her boyfriend about another witch in public, specially when said witch was rapidly coming within earshot.

"Aunt Andromeda, Nymphadora, it's so good to see you," she said, getting up from her chair to greet them. Andromeda hugged her, while Nymphadora scowled.

"You know I go by Tonks," her cousin said. Cassandra did know that.

"Nymphadora, don't be rude," her aunt chided. "How are you, dear? You look like so grown."

"I'm well, thank you." Cassandra replied. "How about you? Did your neighbor ever figure out the source of the smell in her house?"

"Oh yes, it was coming from a bundimun infestation, of all things. Her husband inherited an antique cabinet from his great-aunt that hadn't been properly scourgified, and put it in the attic without telling her. The colony had dissolved half of their roof framing by the time they found the foul pests. Some people might dismiss household spells, because they aren't flashy and can't be used to duel Dark wizards," Andromeda said, side-eyeing her daughter, "but their house could have collapsed on top of them, all because of a sloppy scourging spell."

"Enough about bundimuns, mum," Nymphadora said. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend, little cousin? You two looked quite cozy from over there."

Klaus shrieked menacingly from Cassandra's shoulder at Nymphadora's gibe, causing the metamorphmagus and her mother to startle.

"Klaus says hi," Cassandra deadpanned, even though the raven's hostility was plain. "And of course, I apologise for the rudeness. This is my boyfriend, Cedric Diggory," she said, turning to the wizard.

Cedric rose politely from his chair, offering his hand to her aunt first, and then to her cousin. "Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Tonks, Miss Tonks. Cassandra speaks very fondly of you," he said with a warm smile.

"Does she?" Andromeda said with naked surprise on her face. She looked appraisingly between her niece and Cedric, handsome and affable, and her face broke into a pleased smile. "It's very nice to meet you as well, Mr. Diggory."

"Cedric, please. If you call me Mr. Diggory I'll keep looking around expecting to see my father."

"Wait, Cedric Diggory?" Nymphadora interrupted, and it was clear she was working through something in her head. "Aren't you the kid who replaced Merridew as Seeker? You're dating a Hufflepuff!" She said to Cassandra, sounding halfway between accusing and astonished.

"Why is that so surprising?" Cassandra asked, knowing perfectly well the reason why. A relationship with someone outside Slytherin who didn't belong to a pureblood family did not reconcile with her cousin's view of her as a snotty heiress.

"Does your gran- I'm sorry," her aunt said. "I was about to ask a rather impertinent question."

"If that question is whether grandfather knows about us, the answer is yes. He's given us his wholehearted approval."

"That doesn't sound like the Cygnus I remember," Andromeda said, her face twisted in an involuntary grimace.

Cassandra was unsure how to respond, knowing that defending the man who had disowned her aunt for marrying a muggleborn wasn't a good idea.

"He did try to negotiate a betrothal contract with my parents the first time we met, before Cassandra cut him off," Cedric offered, "so maybe he hasn't changed that much."

Andromeda gave him a wry smile, accepting the appeasing words. "Maybe. I do wish the two of you the best, young man." She took a step closer to Cassandra, grabbing her hands. "And you. Don't let anyone's opinions of what you should or should not do get in the way of your happiness."

"I won't, aunt Andromeda," Cassandra said solemnly. "I promise."

Her aunt hugged her again, and they said their goodbyes. Cassandra and Cedric had just sat back down when they saw Adrian running in their direction.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he panted after saying hello and throwing himself on a chair in front of them.

"What happened?" Cassandra asked, taking in her best friend's untidy appearance.

"I was fighting with my dad. About you, actually," Adrian said.

"The usual?" She said. Adrian nodded.

"The man has been hoping for ages that Cassandra will overlook our family's half-blood status and decide to give it a go with me," he said to Cedric. "Every time I mention her, he suggests a different way I can woo my way into becoming a Lestrange. Most of the time I go along with it to get him off my case, but today I accidentally let it slip that you two are together, and he berated me for half an hour for ' _missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime_ '. He had figured if she was going to choose someone else, at least it would be a wizard from an old pureblood line. I was this close to just telling him I'm gay and being done with the whole farce."

"I gather he wouldn't respond well to it," Cedric said.

"That's an understatement," Adrian said, understandably frustrated at his situation.

"Just two more years, Adrian. Two years, and you'll be free," Cassandra said, and her friend took a deep breath in and out, relaxing.

"What's in two years?" Cedric asked. Cassandra noticed he was playing with the ends of her hair, and put her hand on his knee. The physical contact with him was like a balm. He smiled at her touch.

"My seventeenth birthday," she answered. "The day I come into full control of the Lestrange fortune, and Adrian doesn't have to worry about his parents throwing him out when he comes out to them. Grandfather has loosened up a lot since aunt Andromeda's time, but he's not forward thinking enough to take in an underage gay wizard. So we have to wait until I can."

"What's the point of being the richest witch in Britain if you can't financially support your homosexual friends?" Adrian said.

Cassandra laughed. "Yes, that."

"How's your grandfather, by the way?" Adrian asked.

"Worried," she said. "Apparently, word about the Dark Lord being attached to the back of our Defense professor's head last year is spreading among the old guard."

"They must be excited," Adrian said. "Thinking he might come back and all."

"They're scared out of their minds," she replied. Adrian looked confused. Cedric listened to them quietly, already having had this conversation with his girlfriend. "They stayed out of Azkaban by denying to have ever truly supported him, and claiming they were bewitched or coerced into it. And if that wasn't bad enough, now that they know he's not really dead, they have no excuse for not being out there trying their best to find him. My family and Barty Crouch Jr. looked for over a year before they were arrested, while everyone else turned their backs to them. Grandfather is worried one of them might to cause some mayhem in an attempt to prove their loyalty to the cause, as a precaution in case he does come back, and that they might try to rope me in, being the last free Lestrange."

"That's a fucking grim thought," Adrian said after a few moments of heavy silence. "We should have some ice cream."


	3. Daredevil

The three teenagers bought their favorite ice creams, which they ate as they wandered around Diagon Alley, chatting and examining the shop windows. Cassandra ignored the dirty looks she received from the occasional witch and wizard. Even Florean Fortescue had avoided meeting her eyes while he'd prepared her order, lacking the usual zest he was known for showing in his interactions with customers. When Cedric remarked on it, Cassandra shrugged his concern away. As long as her dark chocolate and banana flavoured ice cream tasted as good as everyone else's, she didn't mind the uncongenial customer service.

They went to Madam Malkin's first. Cedric had grown even taller during the summer, and was in dire need of new robes that fit him properly. As for Cassandra and Adrian, it would be unbecoming of a pair of Slytherins to walk around Hogwarts in year-old school robes. The two friends were fitted first, then sat side-by-side on the comfortable armchairs Madam Malkin offered her waiting clients. They accepted refreshments from another employee and watched the shop owner take Cedric's measurements. When he took out his too-small clothes at the witch's request, Adrian whistled. Cassandra weakly slapped her friend's chest with the back of her hand, holding in a chuckle when she noticed the scarlet blush coloring her boyfriend's cheeks.

"Merlin, how did he get even more fit since June?" Adrian muttered to her while they watched Madam Malkin pin a pair of trousers on Cedric's waiting form.

"He _really_ wanted to impress Ivanovich. I think he felt a little inadequate because he was so behind on his practical spellwork - not his fault, really, it was a given considering the staggering incompetence of our past Defense professors," Cassandra said. "So he woke up every single morning before sunrise to exercise. Said if he couldn't go against me spell-for-spell, he could at least make sure he did his best in every other aspect of our training."

"Did it work?" Adrian asked. "From what you've said of him, Comrade Boris doesn't sound very easy to impress."

"He isn't. But I think it did. Cedric's casting time is ridiculously quick, and I've got nothing on him when it comes to endurance. I'm still the better duelist, but if he manages to draw out a match, he can get me with a lucky shot once I'm worn down. According to Ivanovich that's an ' _unfortunate drawback of my weakly woman disposition I must overcome',_ " Cassandra said, emulating the wizard's strong Russian accent. Adrian snorted, and she found herself laughing with him.

They were quiet for a few moments after her bad impression stopped being funny, and then Cassandra felt her leg being nudged by her friend. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow at the calculating expression on his face.

"You're different," Adrian said.

"How so?" She asked.

"I don't know… lighter, maybe? The last time I saw you, you looked like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Now you don't," he said. "Did something change?"

Cassandra sighed, and moved Klaus from her shoulder to her lap, stroking his feathers absent-mindedly. She considered how to respond to her friend's words. She knew what he meant. When they had said goodbye to each other at King's Cross after the train ride back from Hogwarts, she'd been weighed down by worry about her future, and the prophecy that loomed over it. Ostensibly, nothing had changed since then. There had been no great discovery that guaranteed her future safety, or major shift in her circumstances to assuage her concerns. But something had happened during the summer that accounted for the difference Adrian saw in her.

"I'm happy," she said honestly. "I had the best summer of my life, Adrian. Cedric was there and everything was just… good. Wonderful, even. All I had to do was keep any thoughts about the future off my mind, focus on living in the present, and it was like the whole prophecy business was nothing more than a bad dream." She looked back in Cedric's direction, at the person responsible for her happiness. "Cedric believes it might not come true. That I can choose not to become what it says I will."

"Do _you_ believe that?" Adrian asked.

Cassandra shrugged; she wasn't sure. "Even if I don't. If he's wrong and no matter what I do to avoid it, all that's been predicted comes true. What do I have to gain by worrying about it? I'll have wasted the few years I have to be happy before everything goes to shit for nothing. I don't want that. I might not be free to choose what I become in the future, but I am free to choose how I live the present. And right now, I'm choosing to enjoy life."

"That's the most sickeningly optimistic thing I have ever heard you say," Adrian said, squinting at her. "Be serious, does Diggory have you under an Imperius?"

"Shut up," she laughed.

"Are you two ready to go?" Cedric said. He was back on his robes and had all their shopping bags with him. Cassandra got up from her armchair and smiled at him. He smiled back, and she pulled him closer to give him a quick but sweet kiss.

"What was that for?" He asked after she let him go.

"Just because," she answered.

They went to Scribbulus Writing Instruments next to purchase parchment, ink and new quills, then to Flourish and Blotts for their school books. Cassandra called for Mimi to take her and Cedric's purchases home rather than walk around carrying the heavy sets of Gilderoy Lockhart's books. Adrian's chin threatened to meet the ground when she informed him that the famous wizard would be their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, something that her uncle Lucius Malfoy, who had a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, had told her grandfather. Apparently, her friend had a crush on the handsome author. Afterwards, they went to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where the three of them ordered new Hogwarts Quidditch robes in their respective House colours, Cassandra bought a new set of beater's bats, and Cedric lovingly eyed a model of the soon-to-be-released Nimbus 2001.

"It's so sleek," he said, admiring the design of the silver and black broomstick.

"It's bloody sexy, that's what it is," Adrian said.

Cassandra wached them drool over the model broom with amusement, then called for the shopkeeper.

"Would replacing a Nimbus 2000 with the 2001 be worth it?" She asked. "How much faster is it going to be?"

"What position do you play?" The shopkeeper replied. He was of average height, but had a thick neck and a large, bulky frame. The typical beater's frame. Cassandra would bet every knut in her purse he'd played professionally. She wouldn't choose to play Quidditch in any position other than beater, but unlike the man, her game couldn't rely on her build. She was tall and slender, and had to compensate for her inferior physical strength with deadly accuracy and a lightning-quick reaction time. She couldn't hit as hard as most male beaters, but she had never been thrown from her broom during a match, and once her bat connected, the bludger never missed her target.

"Beater. But my boyfriend - the tall one with the hair over there - is a seeker, and my friend's a chaser," she answered.

"Not many female beaters," the shopkeeper observed. She couldn't detect any prejudice in his tone, he was simply stating a fact.

"I've been told I have a vicious arm," she said.

He gave her a nod, accepting her answer.

"The Nimbus 2000 performs around 0-90 in ten seconds, 0-100 in ideal conditions with a skilled flyer. The 2001 is going to do 0-100 easily, possibly as high as 0-120 in ten seconds," the burly man explained. "For a beater, broom acceleration isn't what's going to give you an edge over the other players, so you won't lose anything by sticking with a 2000, that broom is still top of the market. The positions where the upgrade is really worth the price tag are chaser and seeker. A seeker on that thing? Would have to work to lose a match."

She thanked the shopkeeper for the information and turned to find her boyfriend listening in on her conversation.

"Are you going to get one?" Cedric asked a little too casually.

Honestly, Cassandra thought, seekers and their brooms. "No reason to," she answered. "He's right, broom acceleration isn't as important to a beater as it is for a chaser, or a seeker. I can buy you one if you want, though."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, pulling her closer to him. "You gave me the fastest racing broom in the world for Christmas just last year, and I love it."

"For Yule," she corrected.

"For Yule," he agreed.

"And it's soon going to be the second fastest broom the world. I mean it, I'll order you one. Just say the word" she said.

Cedric laughed good-naturedly. "I'm not saying the word."

"You know you want to. Come on, say it," she goaded, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Say please Cassandra, my beautiful rich girlfriend, buy me a Nimbus 2001 so my House can have a chance in hell to win the Quidditch Cup, because my teammates are completely useless."

"I am not saying that, and I don't want a Nimbus 2001," he replied.

"Liar," Cassandra said, and Cedric childishly stuck out his tongue at her. She stuck hers back at him, and they kept up their teasing until they heard someone loudly clear their throat behind them.

"Can we go? Because If I have to watch the two of you for one more second I'll put my head through the shop window," Adrian said.

"I need to stop by Borgin and Burkes, but you don't need to come with," Cassandra said, addressing both wizards.

"I've never heard of it," Cedric said.

"That's because it's in Knockturn Alley," Adrian said. "It's an antique shop that sells all sorts of Dark Arts stuff."

"I'm not letting you go into Knockturn Alley alone," Cedric said. Cassandra cocked her head at his statement, and he faltered. "What I meant so say is, if you're going into Knockturn Alley, I'm coming with you."

"I'm definitely not," Adrian said. "That place creeps me out."

Cassandra noticed the reproving look Cedric shot the other boy. She wasn't the only one.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Adrian said, raising his hands in a universal gesture of surrender. "The Dark Arts are her birthright. Any place dedicated to it will welcome her with open arms. My family, however, makes trunks. I have no business being in Knockturn Alley."

"Very true. I'll be perfectly fine," Cassandra said.

They parted ways at the Leaky Cauldron, where Adrian flooed home and Cassandra and Cedric took the entrance into the infamous Knockturn Alley. The dingy alleyway was made up almost entirely of shops dedicated to the Dark Arts. Sinister-looking individuals skulked around, and sketchy street vendors invited the passersby to look at their products. It was a grim place filled with suspicious people and dangerous creatures, but Cassandra couldn't find it in herself to be put-off by it. Adrian was right. She was a Lestrange, and the daughter of a Black. There was no magic here her ancestors hadn't dabbled into, or creature they hadn't killed.

They walked by a pale, disturbingly gaunt vampire holding a tray full of vials of what looked like blood. It inhaled deeply as Cassandra crossed its path, but flinched back when Klaus let out a deep croaking call. Ravens were one of the few creatures with the capacity to cross freely between the land of the living and the land of the dead, and they could tell who didn't belong.

"I don't like it here," Cedric said quietly.

"That's obvious," Cassandra said, noticing how tense he was. "But I don't think that's what's really bothering you."

"Adrian's supposed to be your best friend," Cedric said. "He shouldn't have walked away when you announced you planned to walk into danger by yourself. I mean, look at this place. What if something happened to you?"

"In Knockturn Alley? Please," Cassandra said, rolling her eyes. "If I let a hag or a petty thief hurt me, then the small fortune grandfather has been paying Mr. Ivanovich to train me for years has been wasted for nothing. I can handle myself. The worst that might happen to me here today is I get fleeced by Mr. Borgin."

"Still, it's not right," Cedric insisted.

"Look, I love Adrian, he's my best friend, but he's not made of very stern stuff," Cassandra said. "If we did end up in a dangerous situation together, he'd be more trouble than help. I know that, he knows that, so he does the both of us a favor by taking an out when I offer him one. But when I need someone to perform dangerous, untested magic on, or to talk to about my problems and not worry about being judged, he's there for me. So don't be too hard on him," Cassandra said. "Please?"

Cedric side-eyed her, and she smiled sweetly at him.

"Fine. But I still think-"

"We're here," she announced, and dragged him into Borgin and Burkes before he could finish speaking.

When they stepped into the shop, it was Klaus that Cassandra felt getting alarmed. The raven flew from her shoulder to the top of her head for a better vantage point, something it did when it believed she might be under threat. Considering the amount of Dark magic she could feel emanating from the objects displayed in the dusty and dimly lit store, her familiar's reaction wasn't baseless.

"Don't touch anything," she whispered to Cedric. He nodded and clasped his hands behind his back, staying a step behind her to avoid getting in her way. She walked in front of the glass cases, looking at the products displayed, and sidestepped the weaponry that hung from the ceiling. Ritual masks stared down at her from the walls, and she stared back.

After a few minutes of browsing, she felt Klaus moving on his spot on her head, and deducted from his movements there was someone coming in her direction from her eight o'clock.

She was right. "Hello, Mr. Borgin," she said when she recognized the wiry, greasy looking wizard staring at her. It had been years since she'd last visited the shop with her grandfather, but the lanky Mr. Borgin was very easily distinguishable from she shop's other owner, the short and portly Mr. Burke.

The wizard in question bowed deeply to her. "Miss Lestrange, it's an honour. It's been so long since you graced you with your presence, for a moment I took you for your mother."

"Still in Azkaban, I'm afraid," Cassandra said.

"Yes. A tragedy, that is," Mr. Borgin said, excessively effusive. "Your family - on both sides, has always so faithfully patronized us. Please tell me, how may I be of assistance?"

She turned to the ghastly masks on the walls. "Are these cursed? I need something clean, that won't interfere with the magic I'm going to be channeling."

Mr. Borgin's eyes sparked alight with her question. "A ritualist, are you? Oh yes, the ones along the bottom have some magic residue from past use, but anything from the middle going up would suit your purposes well."

Cassandra looked at the masks one by one. Eventually, an onyx black mask made of what she guessed to be dragon hide caught her eye. The material had been sculpted to resemble the long beak and plumed top of a corvid's head. It would disguise her identity, but leave the lower half of her face uncovered. She pointed at it, and Mr. Borgin summoned it.

"Anything else, Miss Lestrange?" The smarmy shopkeeper asked her.

She almost turned to Cedric to ask for his opinion, but thought best not to direct Mr. Borgin's attention to him. She pointed to a bone-white mask that bore a resemblance to an animal skull, from which two large spiraled horns erupted. "Those are not bicorn horns, are they?"

The smile on the shopkeeper's face dimmed. "No, those came from a great kudu," he said. Cassandra couldn't recall ever having heard of such a creature. "A non-magical beast," he clarified. "Virtually identical horns though, I assure you not many wizards will be able to tell the difference."

She understood then he hadn't expected her to be able tell the difference either. The mask was probably priced as if the horns belonged to the cow-like magical creature known for its taste for male human meat. "I'll take it, but I expect to be charged accordingly."

"Of course, Miss, of course," Mr. Borgin said.

She moved to the displays of bones. "I'll need an assortment of human bones as well, small ones. Can you tell if they belonged to someone who suffered a violent death, or who passed from natural causes?"

"Do you have a preference, Miss?" Mr. Borgin asked.

"Yes, murder would be best, suicide is fine. And that will be all for today," she answered.

The wizard nodded, and started bagging the items she requested. Cassandra sneaked a glance at Cedric, who seemed to be focusing on not looking as uncomfortable and out-of-place as he had to be feeling.

"From what I knew of your parents, Miss Lestrange, they would be most pleased to know their daughter is upholding the old ways," Mr. Borgin said. He looked up at Klaus, and then back at her. "If you happen to start branching into the… bloodier arts, we have a wealth of resources you might be interested into."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said.

Cassandra paid for her purchases, then left the shop with Cedric in tow. Once they were back at the Leaky Cauldron, he exhaled as if expunging smoke from his lungs.

"I-" he started, "What-"

She waited patiently for her boyfriend to work through his thoughts.

"What did he mean by ' _bloodier arts_ '?" Cedric asked finally.

"Necromancy," Cassandra said. "Ravens have a close link with the afterlife. It makes them favoured companions for necromancers."

Cedric's face blanched at her answer. "You're not, though. Branching into…"

"Have you seen me trying to raise any dead lately?" Cassandra asked with mirth.

"What did you buy human bones for, then? Of murder and suicide victims?" Cedric asked, whispering the final words like he couldn't make himself say them out loud.

"They're for a Samhain ritual. I assure you, nothing untoward will be going on. I actually picked the horned mask for you, in case you want to participate," she said.

"You did?" Cedric asked with surprise.

"I did. So you don't have to worry about becoming a minion of evil in my Dark army anytime soon," Cassandra replied.

"You're not funny," Cedric said.

"I so am."


	4. Better Version of Me

The end of summer came quickly. On September 1st, Mimi took Cassandra and Cedric to platform nine and three quarters, and they caught the Hogwarts Express back to school. During the start-of-term feast, Cassandra sat between Adrian and the Bloody Baron, and ignored her little cousin rambling about Harry Potter's absence and the likelihood of his expulsion from Hogwarts. She heard later from a Slytherin prefect that instead of taking the train, the boy-who-lived had chosen to arrive by flying car with Fred and George Weasley's little brother, and vowed on the spot to find a spell to make herself temporarily deaf, in order to be spared from listening to Draco's envious whining.

When a Howler went off at the Gryffindor table in the middle of breakfast the next day, Cassandra decided to test out an idea she'd had the night before. She had spent hours in bed considering the possibility of getting an Imperturbable Charm to work on a human being. The charm was a simple one, conventionally used to create an invisible barrier around an object. The barrier could be penetrated by spells, but objects and sound would bounce off it. She believed a small change in the charm's incantation and a good amount of focus during casting might be enough to make it work. If so, she could use the spell on herself whenever she wanted silence. She checked to see if anyone was watching her, then as discreetly as she could, pointed her wand across the table at Adrian, and muttered the altered incantation.

It took only a second until Adrian started looking around, seeming confused. He started speaking to her, but she couldn't hear whatever he was saying - apparently, the charm muted sounds both ways. Seeing he was getting frantic, Cassandra raised her hand and silently told him to calm down. Once he did, she threw a bread roll at his face. He was so surprised by the action he didn't even try to duck, and watched, stunned, as the bread roll bounced off the invisible barrier around him and fell on the table. Cassandra annulled the spell, satisfied with her experiment.

"- in the bloody hell was that?" Adrian asked.

"Magic," Cassandra said. "I was trying something out. Could you hear anything?"

"No, just a faint murmur," Adrian said. "You could've given me a heads up."

She smiled, happy her idea had worked, and he scowled at her.

"You know what, I miss single Cassandra. Maybe she was dark and unhappy and also tested out her crazy ideas on me, but at least she didn't look so smug about it," Adrian complained.

" _Aww, does Adrian miss single Cassandra_?" She mimicked in a high-pitched, mocking tone. "Well, maybe Adrian needs to get some action, and that'll remove the stick that's currently lodged up his ass."

"Miss Lestrange," said an unmistakable cold voice behind her, "I encourage my students to refrain from using such vulgar language where they might be overheard. Our House has a reputation to uphold."

Cassandra held in an exasperated sigh, and turned around to face Professor Snape.

Severus Snape approached teaching with an abrasive and spiteful attitude that won him little regard from most students; the vocal minority being his Slytherin pupils, whom as Head of House, the Potions teacher favoured openly. However, despite benefiting from his preferential treatment, Cassandra detested the man as fiercely as any militant Gryffindor. But her animosity was founded on a knowledge she doubted any of them had.

Shortly after the Dark Lord's downfall, a captured Death Eater by the name of Igor Karkaroff appeared before the Wizengamot Council of Magical Law, offering information in a desperate attempt to stay out of Azkaban. He gave up the identity of many of his fellow Death Eaters, among them, Severus Snape. The only thing that kept Snape from sharing a cell block with Cassandra's family at the time was a testimony given by Albus Dumbledore, to the fact that Snape had acted as a valuable spy amongst the Dark Lord's ranks for the last year and a half of the war.

Maybe in another world, where the Lestranges had prioritized family over cause, and renounced the Dark Lord after his disappearance as so many had, Cassandra wouldn't have felt compelled to read smuggled transcripts of the Death Eater trials, in an attempt to understand the choices her parents had made. In that world, she might've respected or even liked Professor Snape. But in this world, the last thing Bellatrix Lestrange had ever told her daughter was to never trust a traitor. Cassandra's feelings about her family's acts in the name of pureblood supremacy aside, she had always heeded her mother's advice.

Cassandra met Snape's eyes with a look of open disinterest. He was her teacher, but in every way that mattered to the pureblood society he had fought for and eventually betrayed, she was his better. He silently handed her a piece of parchment, and she turned back around without acknowledging his reprimand, a clear dismissal. She felt him standing still behind her for a few seconds, and then he moved along the Slytherin table, handing out what she saw now were course schedules.

"You're insane," Adrian mouthed to her. She winked back at him.

Cassandra looked at her schedule and saw they had double Charms with the Hufflepuffs that morning.

The pair of Slytherins walked into Professor Flitwick's classroom to find Cedric already there, with a seat by his side reserved for his girlfriend. Cassandra basked in the envious looks she received when she sat down beside him.

Cedric leaned towards her, and she stood still as she felt his mouth close to her ear. "I missed you," he whispered.

Cassandra closed her eyes, enjoying the shiver that went down her spine. She interlaced her fingers with his under the table and turned her head so he could hear what she whispered back. "I missed you too."

Their first lesson of the year was on Summoning Charms. Professor Flitwick went over the theory, then had them attempt to summon objects across the room. Cassandra and Cedric did it accurately on their first attempts; some students failed to make the objects move the whole distance and others, in a more entertaining display, couldn't catch the summoned objects in time, and ended up being hit in the face.

"What do you have this afternoon?" Cedric asked as they traipsed back to the Great Hall for lunch.

"History of Magic with Binns. I'm going to see if there's anything interesting on the extra books Professor Flitwick assigned. What about you?" Cassandra said.

"Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. I'll see you later?" Cedric replied. Cassandra squeezed his hand, and he gave her a smile filled with affection before heading to the Hufflepuff table.

Professor Binns' class was as dull as ever; the ghost managed to lull half of his students to sleep with a monotonous lecture on the first goblin rebellion of the eighteenth century. By the end of it, however, Cassandra knew what project she would be spending her days on for the foreseeable future. Ivanovich had long ago drilled into her mind that she couldn't claim to have truly mastered a spell until she was able to cast it nonverbally, with the same effectiveness. Nonverbal casting demanded a fair amount of concentration and mental discipline, but wasn't beyond her capabilities. But a passing mention of something that she'd never considered before on one of Flitwick's books had intrigued her - wandless summoning. With few notable exceptions, having their wand taken immediately rendered most wizards defenseless. But if a disarmed wizard were able to perform a wandless summoning charm, they could simply order their wand back to them. Even if wandless magic was supposed to be difficult to perform and could have volatile results if not done properly, it seemed to her that every witch and wizard ought to do their very best to learn at least this one spell.

"What are you doing?" Adrian asked her. It was a cold, overcast morning, and she sitting on a stone bench in the windy courtyard, with her wand drawn and Klaus flying in tight circles above her head.

"Watch this," Cassandra said. She cleared her mind and focused on picturing one single worm. She visualized its brown, cylindrical, slimy body. Once satisfied with the image, she moved her wand in a half-circle motion and willed the creature to come to her, voicing the incantation in her mind. At once, an earthworm shot up from the ground and zoomed in her direction, only to be snatched mid-air by Klaus before it could reach her. They had been playing this game for about thirty minutes now.

"Did you just summon that nonverbally?" Adrian asked, his eyebrows raised. "Wait, I thought it wasn't possible to summon live creatures."

"Doesn't apply to worms, according to Miranda Goshawk, _"_ Cassandra said. She had read that while he was snoring by her side on Binns' class.

"I read the chapter on Summoning Charms last night and I'm pretty sure it didn't say anything about worms," Adrian said.

"It's in _The Wonderbook of Spells_ , not _The Standard Book of Spells_ ," Cassandra replied.

"You already did Flitwick's extra reading? You know what, don't answer that. I'd rather not know," Adrian groaned. "We should go, I don't want to be late to Professor Lockhart's class."

"Oooh right, we wouldn't want to disappoint Professor Lockhart, would we?" Cassandra said. "But if we did, maybe he would _punish us…"_

"You are not going to ruin this for me," Adrian said, wagging his finger at her. "I mean it, Lestrange. You have Diggory looking better than ever at your beck and call, and all I have is my right hand. I intend to stack up on as many dirty fantasies featuring Lockhart as I can before the curse gets him, and you will not ruin that for me."

"Fine," Cassandra said, throwing up her hands in surrender.

"Say it. Say you will not ruin Gilderoy Lockhart for me," Adrian demanded.

"I will not ruin Gilderoy Lockhart for you," Cassandra repeated.

They took a table front and center and waited for Lockhart to arrive. He swept into the classroom wearing perfectly tailored indigo robes, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned indigo hat with gold trimming.

"Hello, class," Lockhart started. "I'm sure you all already know who I am. Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five - yes, I said FIVE - time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award. But let's not delve too deeply into that. I didn't defeat the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

There was a rehearsed pause, and quite a few students laughed. Cassandra smirked to herself. One could always trust Slytherins to know how to play an authority figure.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books, very well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in."

He handed out the test papers and returned to the front of the class. "You have thirty minutes starting now!"

Cassandra started shaking with silent laughter around question thirteen - _'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite style of sleepwear?'_ The sheer impropriety of a teacher quizzing his teenage students about his nightclothes was enough to throw her into hysterics. But having promised Adrian she wouldn't mess with his Lockhart fantasies, she tried her best to be silent, and not call attention to herself. By the time the clearly deranged man collected their papers, Cassandra's face was streaked with tears, and bright red from her effort to stay quiet. She risked a glance at Adrian, and completely lost it at the look of disappointment in his face.

"Yes?" Lockhart smiled at her when he heard the high-pitched noise she let out.

Cassandra took a deep breath, wiping the corner of her eyes with her robes in an attempt to buy some time.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said. "I'm just… such a big fan."

She heard a snort behind her and pressed her lips shut to hold in another fit.

"A fan, how wonderful!" Lockhart beamed. "I'm sure you'll get full marks!"

She was sure she wouldn't.

Lockhart went over a few of the incorrect responses on the quizzes, at one point clarifying his secret ambition was _not_ to father the first half-wizard half-yeti creature, as one student had answered question number two.

"Now let's get down to business! I see from your tests many of you consider _Wanderings with Werewolves_ to be your favorite book of mine - I'll confess, my intrepid defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf was the stuff of legends - so I thought I might recreate the final duel right here for you. Isn't that brilliant?"

A few people nodded.

"Alright, so who would like to assist me in this task? Now, I must warn you I am quite a gifted actor."

Before anyone else could volunteer, Cassandra elbowed Adrian's side hard. He jumped in his chair with a startled yelp, and Lockhart clapped his hands with glee.

"I see we have a volunteer!"

A few minutes later, Lockhart had Adrian pinned down on the ground. "Nice loud howl, Mr. Pucey—exactly—and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced—like this—slammed him to the floor—thus with one hand, I managed to hold him down—with my other, I put my wand to his throat—I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the Homorphus Charm—he let out a piteous moan—go on, higher than that—good—the fur vanished—the fangs shrank—and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective—and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The teacher got up to his feet, then gallantly offered a hand to assist Adrian, who seemed a little stiff as he walked back to his seat.

"Any questions?" Lockhart asked.

Someone's hand shot up at the back. "Professor Lockhart, you say on page 97 that you were actually able to cure the Wagga Wagga Werewolf. If there is a known cure for lycanthropy, then why doesn't the Ministry use it, instead of letting them run rabid?"

"Oh yes, very good question. The Homorphus Charm is an immensely complex spell. I am able to cast it perfectly of course, but most wizards are only able to use it to temporarily return a werewolf to human form. Not everyone is as gifted as me, I'm afraid."

The bell rang, and Lockhart assigned them a poem on his defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf for homework before dismissing the class.

"So," Cassandra said to her friend as they walked out of the classroom. "Are you coming down for lunch, or are you hurrying to your room to get some use out of that right hand?"

"There is nothing you can say to me right now that will make me mad at you, Lestrange," Adrian said. "By Merlin, he might be an idiot, but when he grabbed my throat I thought I was going to-"

"That's quite enough information, thank you," Cassandra laughed. "And you're welcome for the spank material, by the way. I know it can be hard to be around someone who has everything, but besides being brilliant, beautiful, obscenely rich and having the world's greatest boyfriend, I also happen to be an amazing friend."

"I'm not even denying that right now, that's how much I just enjoyed myself," Adrian sighed.

That afternoon, an hour before dinner, Cassandra and Adrian headed to the Quidditch field for a meeting called by Marcus Flint, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He was a tall and brawny sixth year; a gifted chaser and solid captain.

"I have some news," Flint said. "We won the Quidditch Cup last year, as we've done every year since this team has been together-"

"Yeah!" cheered Miles Bletchley, their Keeper.

"But it was a near thing. We were lucky Potter couldn't play the last game of the season, otherwise things might have ended differently. So I think it's time for some change. I've already talked to Higgs, and he's agreed to be our reserve seeker for the year. We're bringing in someone new."

"Are we holding tryouts, then?" Adrian asked.

"No. Our new seeker has already been selected; it's going to be Draco Malfoy," Flint answered.

"Why?" Cassandra asked. "I mean, I'm all for change if it means winning the Cup, but I've seen Draco play. He's solid, but so is Higgs. If we're going for a fresh player, why not hold an open tryout, see who does best."

"I'm going to level with you all," Flint said. "In exchange for Malfoy coming in as our seeker, his father has offered to buy our entire team Nimbus 2001s."

Adrian whistled.

"As Lestrange said, Malfoy is a solid seeker, I've seen him fly myself. Whatever adjustments we have to make to account for his inexperience will be more than offset by the extra speed and maneuverability we'll get on those brooms. We'll be flying on the fastest racing brooms in the world, against a bunch of slugs on Comets and Cleansweeps. The Cup will be ours for the taking!" Flint shouted.

Confident in their abilities and excited by the prospect of being gifted a Nimbus 2001, most of his players shouted back.

"Now, I want to start practicing as soon as possible. The field is booked for the weekend, but I'll get Professor Snape to give us a special authorization or something. I'll see you all here on Saturday, at eight o'clock sharp."

Cassandra waited for her fellow players to leave to speak with Flint privately.

"Are you sure about this, captain? I know the offer of the 2001s is enticing, but Draco's not a team player. If you'd asked for my opinion, I would've told you Higgs is the better choice," Cassandra said.

"You're a good player, Lestrange, and you know I respect you, but it's my job to do what's best for the team, regardless of any player's personal animosities," Flint said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked.

"Mr. Malfoy warned me you kept your distance from Draco because of some unresolved family business. Said you might try to convince me not to put him on the team because of it," Flint replied.

Cassandra was too incredulous to even come up with a response. She distrusted Lucius and her aunt Narcissa because of their actions during the war and its aftermath, but that didn't extend to Draco. She didn't like her little cousin simply because he was a pompous git. Nonetheless, she had been raised to believe that family matters should be handled behind closed doors. It rankled her that Lucius would level such an accusation against her behind her back, instead of broaching the issue personally.

"Do you really believe Draco's the best choice for the team?" She asked finally.

"I do," Flint answered without hesitation.

She hoped he was right.

It only took her three days to conclude he definitely wasn't. Just as they'd been instructed, the team had met at the edge of the Quidditch field at eight a.m. on Saturday, with their new broomsticks in hand and Draco in tow. Cassandra had stood stoically while Flint exchanged unpleasantries with the Gryffindor Captain, tuning out their bickering over scheduling in favour of thinking about the time she and Cedric had spent together in an empty classroom the day before. But even distracted, she had known things were going to get out of hand when the argument between the two captains was interrupted by Harry Potter's two best friends - small Weasley and bushy-haired girl.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," bushy-haired girl said to Draco after a few pointed exchanges. "They got in on pure talent."

It was obvious she struck a nerve by Draco's hateful reply, "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood."

There was an instant uproar. Flint had to dive in front of Draco to stop the twins from jumping on him, Alicia Spinnet was shrieking; and small Weasley pointed his wand at Draco, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!"

Before she could decide if she was going to cast a shield or let her cousin pay for his idiocy, Fred and George's little brother - Ron, apparently, was on the floor vomiting slugs. Cassandra looked on disapprovingly as her teammates were doubled up with laughter. As soon as Ron was taken away by his friends, she cut off the argument she knew was going to start over what had just happened.

"Fred, George," she called out. The twins turned to her, along with everyone else. "If the muggleborn girl-"

"Her name is Hermione," Alicia Spinnet spat at her.

"If Hermione wants to lodge a complaint against Draco, I'll back her up with Professor Snape," she said evenly. The Gryffindors looked at her in astonishment, Draco started to yell his indignation. She drew her wand and silenced him with the Imperturbable Charm she'd tested on Adrian. "And I'm sorry about your brother," she continued. Everyone was looking between her and Draco, who at this point seemed to be yelling at the top of his lungs, even though they couldn't hear anything. "I'd concede the field to your team, but I don't think you'll be continuing practice without your seeker."

"No need," Oliver Wood said awkwardly. "That's alright, we'll leave."

She waited until they were out of sight to ask her team to step away so she could speak with her cousin.

"What did you do to me? You can't do that!" Draco said angrily once she cancelled the Imperturbable Charm.

"But I just did," she said calmly, her head cocked to the side. "I can do it again right now if I want to."

"You won't," Draco said, but his voice was wobbling. "I- I'll tell my father."

"And what exactly do you think he's going to do to me, Draco?" Cassandra asked. "Your father is just as pathetic as you are."

Draco drew in a sharp breath at her words.

"You think throwing that word around makes you a proper wizard? That it makes you powerful? That muggleborn girl is right. You're a pureblood; your existence is owed to centuries of selective breeding, and you still couldn't even make a school Quidditch team without having to buy your way in. You should be ashamed. But that's the problem with you Malfoys; you fail to realize money can't buy you everything. It can't buy you talent on that broom," Cassandra said, then got close enough to the boy that their noses were nearly touching. "And you tell your gutless father, it won't buy his way back into the Dark Lord's good graces, either."


	5. To Your Love

Cassandra stared at the 12¾" yew wand on the edge of her bed, trying with all her might to make it fly to her. _'Accio wand,'_ she repeated in her mind once again. A bead of sweat ran down the back of her neck, and the tension in her temples warned her of an oncoming headache - she'd been at this for more than an hour. One more try, she thought stubbornly. _'Accio wand!'_

Nothing. With great frustration, she wiped the sweat that had accumulated on her hairline and reached forward for the uncooperative object.

She found Adrian playing wizard's chess in the common room with a third year, who promptly scurried away upon seeing her. She sat in a carved chair across her friend and continued the game from where her predecessor had left it.

"Anything?" Adrian asked.

"Not even a twitch. It's been a whole month, I should be able to do it by now," she complained. "Your turn."

"You're a fourth year trying to perform a nonverbal wandless spell," Adrian said, making a move that got him one of her knights. "You can't perform incredibly advanced and notoriously difficult magic? Welcome to the club."

"Whatever," Cassandra replied. "I just feel as if there's this… wall, keeping me from being able to access my magic without a wand, and I have no clue how to break through it."

Adrian hummed noncommittally; he clearly wasn't too invested in the subject.

"Forget it," she said, moving on from the topic. "Have you decided if you're coming with me to Cedric's party tomorrow?"

A month into term, she'd been invited by a Hufflepuff prefect to attend a surprise party the Hufflepuff Quidditch team was planning for Cedric's birthday. She'd been bewildered by their willingness to include her, and even more so by Professor Sprout's reassurance she was welcome to visit the Hufflepuff Basement for the celebration - she couldn't imagine the same ever happening if Cedric were to approach Professor Snape.

"Sorry, but I promised Flint we'd meet up to go over the new plays for the season," Adrian answered without looking up from the chess board. He was within a couple moves of beating her - that third year had been playing a horrid game.

"You and Flint, huh. Just the two of you?" Cassandra asked with faux innocence.

Adrian looked at her crossly, she smiled a small, amused smile.

The next day, at five o'clock, Cassandra made her way to the kitchen corridor where the entrance to the Hufflepuff Basement was concealed. She tapped the correct barrel to the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff', and with a resigned sigh crawled through the passageway that led to the cellar.

Even though she'd expected their common room to be different from her own, the actual sight of it was jarring. When she thought of Hogwarts, she thought of the cool stone walls and greenish lamps of the Slytherin Dungeon, of iron and silver and black leather, and the relaxing swishing sound of the lake that could be heard at night. The room she was in was all wood and copper and warm earthy tones, filled with plants and brightly illuminated by sunlight.

"Hello!" Said someone, snapping Cassandra out of her musings.

"Hello, Preece," Cassandra replied, recognizing the brown-haired wizard who played as a chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and was close friends with her boyfriend. "I thought the team would be at practice right now, keeping Cedric busy."

"Oh, that's just him and Max," Preece answered. Max Tupper was the current Hufflepuff Captain, and had been priming Cedric to be his replacement since the beginning of the year, his last at Hogwarts. "The rest of us stayed back to get everything ready."

"Right. So, how can I help?"

Forty minutes later, Cassandra was yelling "Happy Birthday!" to a surprised Cedric alongside what seemed to be half of the Hufflepuff students. She hung back and watched him accept birthday wishes with grace and earnest gratitude. When he finally registered her presence, his face broke into a brilliant smile. ' _I love him,'_ she thought for the first time in her life, and something that for long had been tightly rolled inside her chest began to unfurl.

"I'm so glad you're here," Cedric said, wrapping her in a hug that lifted her off the ground.

"Happy birthday," Cassandra replied. Three words sat at the tip of her tongue, eager to slip from her mouth; but they were surrounded by people and she felt too protective of their relationship to share that moment with anyone else. "Thank you for being in my life."

"Thank you for letting me," Cedric said. "I love you."

 _'I love you, too,'_ she thought, but kissed him instead. Cedric's friends hollered at them.

"Do you mind if we mingle? I don't want to be rude," he said, a faint pink blush colouring his cheeks.

"Of course not, it's your party," she smiled.

Cassandra had never been to a surprise birthday party before, but even if she had, she doubted the stiff-upper-lipped purebloods she reluctantly socialized with would go about it the way the Hufflepuffs did. There were cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; people were draped over overstuffed sofas and chairs; and someone had turned the wireless on to play the Weird Sisters. Considering her last name and the rumors that had followed her in the past about her supposed involvement with the Dark Arts, Cassandra had expected to be given a wide berth by Cedric's housemates, but that wasn't the case. They had seemingly decided that if Cedric trusted her, so would the rest of them.

"So, what's Slytherin's opinion on Professor Lockhart, Lestrange? We haven't been able to reach a consensus yet," asked Gabriel Truman, the prefect who had approached her about the party.

"I don't know about Slytherin as a whole, but my opinion is that he's a terrible teacher," Cassandra said.

"But all the things he's done!" Exclaimed a Hufflepuff witch (Tam… something Applewood? Applebee? Cassandra was terrible with names).

"If he's actually accomplished all he claims to have - and that's a big if, then no one can dispute his skills at offensive magic," Cassandra said. "But even then, what does reenacting his books in class accomplish? We can all read. He could at least attempt to teach the spells mentioned in them."

"That would be nice. Can you imagine, being able to banish a hag?" The other girl said.

"I'd like to learn the spell he used at the end of Wanderings With Werewolves to make sure the Wagga Wagga Werewolf would never transform again. Think of how many lives could be improved if it were more widely known! I can't think of a worse fate than being infected with lycanthropy and having to live the rest of your life as a dark creature," Gabriel said.

"I asked my dad about that, and he told me no one in the history of the Department of Magical Creatures has ever managed to permanently cure a werewolf using the Homorphus Charm; only to temporarily return them to their human form. And every wizard in the Werewolf Capture Unit has to be able to perform it to make it into the squad," Cedric offered.

"And it's not as 'immensely complex' as Lockhart says it is, either," Cassandra said. "It's essentially an untransfiguration spell. You visualise their original form, put your will behind the casting and say the incantation. The reason why it's so rarely used is because it takes a monumental amount of willpower to trigger the change. Well, and also, the tip of your wand has to be placed against the throat of the creature you want to turn back into human, and once a werewolf has you that close-" she felt a shudder going through Cedric's body where he had his arm around her, "your best hope is that it finishes you off quickly."

"How do you know all of that?" Gabriel asked.

"Good summer tutor," Cassandra answered.

When the party began to wind down, Cassandra nudged Cedric towards a spot of the common room where they could talk without being overheard.

"I have something to give you, but I don't want to do it in front of an audience," Cassandra said.

"You didn't have to get me anything," Cedric said. She rolled her eyes at him. "We could go to my dorm? No one's going to be in there at this hour."

"Do you have any idea what people are going to say when they notice the two of us disappeared into your dorm room in the middle of your birthday party? Do you have any concern at all for my reputation, Cedric Diggory?"

Cedric blushed so hard the top of his ears turned red. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thin-"

"Lead the way," Cassandra interrupted him with a cheeky smile.

"How can you be so infuriating?" Cedric said once they reached his dorm room and he closed the door behind them, backing Cassandra up against it. "And still make me so - damn - crazy - for you," he said between kisses.

"The fury is half of the allure," she murmured against his mouth before kissing him back.

"Do you want to see your presents or not?" Cassandra asked after a while.

"Presents. As in more than one," Cedric said.

"Just two; so you don't have to freak out," Cassandra said, letting him lead her towards his bed. She sat down in the middle of the four-poster bed, ran her hand over the patchwork quilt that covered it. "As a matter of fact, I'd like you to promise me you're not going to freak out."

"Why?" Cedric asked with suspicion.

"Because you and I have different attitudes to money, and I don't want to be deprived of gifting you something because you might be weird about it," Cassandra answered. "So instead of you insisting you can't accept your presents, and me insisting you can until I wear you down and you relent; you can simply promise not to freak out, and spare us both the trouble."

"Will giving me whatever it is you got me make you happy?" Cedric sighed.

"Yes."

"Then fine. I promise I won't freak out," he said.

"Thank you!" Cassandra said, and gave him a loud smacking kiss on the cheek. She took two small packages out of her robes pocket and performed the counter-spell to the Shrinking Charm she'd placed on the items earlier.

"You didn't," Cedric said, eyeing a long rectangular package topped with a bright red bow. The shape of a broomstick was unmistakable, even when covered in wrapping paper.

"I did."

He unwrapped the brand new Nimbus 2001 with great care, handling as one would a precious treasure. "But-"

"You promised you wouldn't freak out," she reminded him. "I wasn't planning on getting you one, until my uncle bought one of those for everyone in the Slytherin team to bribe my idiot cousin's way in. You can see it as my way of… balancing the scales. You're a Hufflepuff, you're supposed to care about fairness."

Cedric listened to her rant with a smile. "Thank you. I love it."

"You do?"

"I do."

"Great! Now open this one," Cassandra said, handing the other package to him.

Something fluttered in her stomach when Cedric ran his fingers over the letters engraved on the cover of the first of the four books in front of him. It had taken her a considerable amount of effort to get her hands on them, and unlike the racing broom, the books had personal significance to her boyfriend.

"I know I said I had only gotten you two presents, but it's really one book divided in four volumes; so technically, it wasn't a lie."

Cedric opened the book and gasped at what he saw on its first page. "It's a first edition."

"I know," Cassandra said. "I hope you can read Spanish. If you can't, it's an illustrated version, so you can still look at the pictures."

"It's my favorite book."

"When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?" Cassandra quoted. "Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams - this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness - and maddest of all:"

"To see life as it is, and not as it should be," Cedric finished. "You read it."

"I did," Cassandra said. _'I love you'_ , she thought, but the weight of those words was suddenly impossibly heavy. How could she possibly say them? Did she deserve to love someone like Cedric - someone so genuinely good, when one day she would turn into a terrifying, soulless monster?

"Hey, don't cry," Cedric said softly, wiping a tear she hadn't noticed shedding. "I love it, I really do. It's perfect. You're perfect."

She let him comfort her, and promised to herself she would tell him soon.

The end of October came quickly. Between classwork, Quidditch practice, Occlumency exercises and more fruitless attempts at mastering wandless summoning, Cassandra managed to go through the rest of the month without revisiting the issue of whether she should tell Cedric about her feelings or not. By the time the 31st arrived, she had another, more timely confession to make.

"What do you mean, he doesn't know today's your birthday?" Adrian asked her during lunch.

"Why would he know that?" Cassandra replied. "You know I don't celebrate my birthday. The only people who know it are what's left of my family and you, and I've forbidden all of you from acknowledging it."

"The two of you have been together for almost a year," Adrian said as if she were slow. "At some point he'll do the math and realize you must have had a birthday and didn't tell him about it."

"So what?" Cassandra shrugged.

"What do you mean so what?" Adrian asked, his voice going up an octave. "He's your boyfriend. It's insane that you're hiding your birthday from him just because you don't want to tell him you have a hang-up about it."

"I don't have a hang-up about my birthday," Cassandra said. Adrian stared at her impatiently. "Fine, I do have a hang-up about my birthday. But I don't see why it's such a big deal that I'm not rushing to tell him about it. It's just one of those things."

"One of what things?" Adrian frowned.

"One of those things… everyone has things they don't talk about, mine's my birthday. It's not as if I'm planning to lie to him if the subject ever comes up naturally. I'll tell him then," Cassandra said defensively.

"You're acting like an insane person. No, you're acting like a coward," Adrian said.

"I'm not a coward," Cassandra protested.

"Yes, you are," Adrian replied.

"No, I'm not!"

"Then go tell him today's your birthday. Say you don't like to celebrate it, but you thought he should know. That easy," Adrian said.

She hesitated.

"Coward."

"Fine! Have it your way," Cassandra spat out, getting up from her seat. She marched to the Hufflepuff table; when Cedric noticed her, she motioned towards the entrance to the Great Hall.

"What happened? Is something wrong?" Cedric asked, catching up to her.

"No, nothing's wrong. I just realized I forgot to tell you something," Cassandra answered. Was her voice higher than usual?

"Is it about the ritual tonight? I haven't forgotten," Cedric said.

"Of course you haven't," Cassandra muttered, mostly to herself. _'It'll be fine,'_ she chanted in her mind, _'He loves you, it'll be fine.'_

"So," she continued. "Remember how your birthday was at the beginning of the month?"

"I remember my own birthday, yes," Cedric answered with an amused little smile.

"Well, today is mine," she blubbered.

"What?"

"Today is my birthday. I was born right as the clock struck midnight between the 30th and 31st of October, fifteen years ago. My parents saw it as an omen of power. Please don't say happy birthday," Cassandra pleaded, her cheeks heating up.

"I- sure, if that's what you want. May I ask why?" Cedric said.

"I have a thing about it," Cassandra said awkwardly.

"A thing," he repeated.

"I don't celebrate my birthday," she said, thoroughly uncomfortable. "My parents used to when I was little, or so I've been told. But my earliest birthday memory is from October 31st, 1981."

Cedric drew a sharp breath. "That was when-"

"The Dark Lord was vanquished, yes. All I remember is being in my room, Mimi brushing my hair; then hearing the most anguished, horrified scream you can imagine. I walked to the top of the stairs to see what was happening, and my mother was… She was shrieking uncontrollably, throwing curses around. It seemed as if someone had ripped her heart from her chest, and she couldn't bear the pain."

"I'm… so sorry you had to witness that," Cedric said.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. "The next year, my parents were so devoted to finding him, they weren't even in the country for it. And the year after that I was already with grandfather, and he's never been too good at remembering important dates. It became a day I dread rather than one I look forward to, and the last thing I want is to have to put on a fake smile and act like I don't bloody hate this day, every single year. That's why I hate receiving birthday wishes."

"No birthday wishes, easy; I can do that. Anything else?" Cedric asked.

"No birthday gifts, either," she added.

Cedric didn't say anything, but the frown between his brows betrayed his feelings.

"You can give me an extra gift for Yule if you want to, but nothing for my birthday. I would prefer it to go unacknowledged entirely. We'll celebrate Samhain like proper wizards instead, and that'll be that," Cassandra said.

"Alright. Samhain is a great holiday, who wouldn't want to celebrate it?" Cedric said. Cassandra's heart skipped at his easy acceptance. "By the way," he continued, "and please know this has nothing to do with what you just told me, is there anything you've had your eye on lately? Maybe something that would be a good Yule present for a guy to give his girlfriend?"

Cassandra smiled despite herself, narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend's obvious attempt to lift her spirits. "And this has nothing to do with me?"

"It might have a little to do with you. Just a little," Cedric conceded.

Cassandra thought about it. Just then, a brilliant idea struck her. "You know how one of my very favourite things in the world is aggravating people I don't like?"

"Yes, you're amazing at it," Cedric replied.

"Currently, my cousin and his father are at the top of that list; and I know something you can give me I can use to get an inordinate amount of joy at their expense," she said.

"What?"

"Do you still have your last broom?"

"The Nimbus 2000 you gave me last year?" Cedric asked. She nodded. "I do, why?"

"I want it as a gift," Cassandra said.

"Your gift can't be something you gave to me," Cedric said with exasperation. "You're essentially gifting yourself."

"I don't care, it's what I want," she replied.

"You're going to drive me to insanity one of these days. Of course you can have the broom, but it doesn't count as a real present," he said. "I'm still getting you another gift for Yule, that you didn't pay for."

"Fine by me," she shrugged. "Would you mind getting it for me now?"

"You're not serious," Cedric said.

Cassandra gave him a beatific smile, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Please? It's really the best Yule present I think of. It would make me so very happy."

"Just for clarification, you want me to give you a Yule present on the day of your birthday, even though I'm expressly forbidden from giving you a birthday present?"

"It makes sense if you don't think too hard about it."

"Fine, you maddening witch," Cedric said, grabbing both sides of her face to plant a hard quick kiss on her lips. "I'll be right back."

"I love you!" Cassandra said to his retreating back before she could catch herself. Both of them froze, Cedric turned on the spot to look at her.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"Nothing," Cassandra said. "I didn't say anything." Her heart was beating so hard, she felt it might leap out of her throat at any moment. "I'll see you," she said lamely. "Because you're coming right back; I'll see you."

Cedric didn't call her out on her cowardice, accepting her reluctance like seemed to accept everything else about her. "I'll see you, too," he said tenderly, infusing those words with meaning, and she understood him just as he had understood her.

Cassandra rushed to her dorm room to get her own old Nimbus 2000, waited for Cedric to come back with his, then walked out of the castle to one of her favourite spots, near the Forbidden Forest.

"Ouch," Fred Weasley said, trying to bat Klaus away from him and towards his brother. "Stop biting me you damn bird; I'm coming with you, aren't I?"

Cassandra whistled sharply, Klaus flew to her and landed gently on her shoulder.

"Oi, Lestrange," Fred called out, "you have got to find a less aggressive courier to deliver your messages."

"What would be the fun in that?" She asked. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course we came, you're our friend," George said.

"You even managed to convince some people on our team you aren't a pureblood git like the rest of your family with that smackdown you handed Malfoy," Fred grinned. "Offering to back up Hermione like you did was pretty decent of you, Cassie."

"Yes, I'm the very image of decency," she replied. "Actually, what I want to talk about is somewhat related to that."

"We're all ears," said Fred and George together.

"Please don't do that. Remember how Draco's father bought our whole team Nimbus 2001s?" Cassandra asked.

"How could we forget?" Fred said darkly. "It's only all Malfoy talks about whenever we're unfortunate enough to see him."

"Well, as it so happens, thanks to my uncle's generous donation I have two Nimbus 2000s in excellent condition I have no use for anymore, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather have flying on them than the two of you. So, what do you think?" Cassandra asked, moving to reveal the racing broomsticks behind her.

"How come you have two of them?" George asked her, but his eyes were glued to the brooms.

"I'm very rich," Cassandra replied easily.

"We don't need your charity," Fred said, crossing his arms. "We've beaten your team on our Cleensweeps before, we'll beat you again."

"Right, because I'm well-known for my charitable nature," Cassandra said. "I'm not offering to give them to you, I'm selling them."

"How much?" George asked, but he seemed almost afraid to hear her answer.

"One Galleon," Cassandra said.

"One Galleon? That's ridiculous, woman. Even used, those brooms are worth a hundred times that," Fred exclaimed.

"Two Galleons, then. One Galleon each seems fair to me, and that's my final offer."

"George, is she messing with us?" Fred said.

"I have no idea, Fred," George replied.

"I know this might be hard to understand since you don't come from a family of psychos who choose their spouses based on purity of blood and financial prospects, but when I say I'm very rich, I mean it. I could buy a Nimbus 2001 for every single person in this school, and still have plenty of money left. Whether I get two or two hundred Galleons for these brooms makes no difference to me," Cassandra said. "What I really want in return for them is the pleasure of knowing that my uncle's pathetic bribing scheme resulted in two Gryffindor Quidditch players getting top-of-the-market brooms, at essentially no cost. In a way, it's like he'll have subsidized them."

"And why on Merlin's sagging bollocks do you think we would ever accept anything bought with Malfoy's money?" Fred asked heatedly.

"These brooms were bought with my money, he just happened to buy their replacement. And the answer is: because that would infuriate him," Cassandra said.

"This doesn't feel right," Fred said, looking at his brother. George agreed.

"Fine, then can you get Spinnet and your other chaser for me, please? Not Bell, the one that can't stay on her broom," Cassandra asked them. "I don't think they would respond too well to Klaus' approach."

"Do you mean Angelina Johnson?" George asked.

"If that's her name, then yes," Cassandra said.

"Hey, she's a perfectly good flyer, you know that was a dirty play from your guys that knocked her off her broom last year!" Fred said.

"We'll agree to disagree on that. So, will the two of you get them for me? I'll wait here," Cassandra said.

"What do you want with them?" George said.

"The same I wanted with you, to see if they'll take these brooms. Hopefully they're not as foolishly proud as the two of you," Cassandra said.

"Wait," Fred said. "You're gonna offer them the same deal, one Galleon a broom? The price wasn't for our sake?"

"No, you git. I offered it to the two of you because we're friends, and because Lucius hates your family's guts. But I reckon any Gryffindor player will do," Cassandra replied. Only the last part was a lie. She would take a lot more enjoyment out of this deal if the brooms ended up in the hands of Arthur Weasley's sons; according to her grandfather, Lucius had complained about the man throughout the entire summer.

Fred and George looked at each other, communicating silently. "We'll take them!" They said.

"Brilliant," Cassandra smiled.

Just as the Halloween feast commenced that night, Cedric and Cassandra walked towards the Forbidden Forest together, Klaus flying above them to warn of any witnesses to their rule-breaking.

"Are you sure about this?" Cedric asked in a low voice when they reached the edge of the woods.

"Yes," Cassandra replied serenely, and entered the forest.

They walked along a narrow path leading southwest, watching their steps and ducking to avoid low-slung branches. Finally, they entered a small clearing ribboned with shadows, the flat ground covered with gnarled roots; enormous trees towered over them, filled with the glowing eyes of watchful creatures.

"It's perfect," she said.

The witch kneeled on the ground and carefully removed the necessary tools for the ritual from her bag, separating the mortar and pestle and potion ingredients; meanwhile, Cedric created an enchanted bonfire of black flames in the center of the clearing. They prepared the ingredients and set a cauldron over the fire; then added to it chopped asphodel roots, angel's trumpet petals, powdered iron, powdered moonstone and tincture of demiguise, stirring until the potion turned silver. Lastly, Cassandra sliced the neck of an augurey Klaus had hunted down while they brewed, and poured its blood in the cauldron while Cedric stirred it into the potion - they had rehearsed the ritual thrice in the past week, and their movements were fluid and synchronized. Once taken out of the fire and cooled, the resulting liquid was of a deep maroon colour. She poured it into a conjured silver chalice, drank half of it, and handed the cup to Cedric so he could drink the rest.

Immediately, she started shivering as though she'd just sunk into an ice bath, then a fluttering sensation spread from her stomach to the very ends of her fingers and toes. Her skin felt paper-thin, and suddenly her clothes were oppressively heavy on her body; her magic wanted to flow freely.

"We should undress now," Cassandra said.

Nudity was a natural part of many ancient magic rituals, practiced in the times when magic was not channeled through wands, but through one's body. Cassandra had discussed the possibility of it being needed with Cedric beforehand, but he still hesitated.

"I can turn around to give you some privacy," he offered.

Witches and wizards from pureblood lines that had refused to capitulate to Judeo-Christian Muggle beliefs were much less prudish than their counterparts. Instead of answering Cedric's question, Cassandra simply removed her robe, letting it fall to the ground. Next were her shoes, sweater, tie and tights. She watched Cedric's eyes following her fingers as she unbuttoned her shirt, took of her skirt, her undergarments. She stood in front of him, bare-skinned and unselfconscious.

"Your turn," she said.

Cedric blinked a few times, then proceeded to do as she had. Cassandra studied the planes and slopes of his naked form. He was beautiful - as beautiful as she could've ever pictured him; as anyone could be. With a sigh, she redirected her focus to the Samhain ritual she'd come to the Forbidden Forest to perform.

The effects of the potion were hard to ignore by that point: their skins had developed a greyish-silver glow, their body temperatures had dropped considerably, and they were both mostly numb to physical sensations.

"I feel…" Cedric started, but couldn't find the words he needed to complete that thought.

"I know," Cassandra said with amazement. "It's like being a spectator in your own body. Rationally, I know I should be cold; but I'm not. I can't smell the smoke coming from that fire or feel the earth and the roots beneath my feet. I can think, but I can't feel."

"How does it work?" Cedric asked.

"During Samhain, the veil that separates the world of the living and the realm of the dead is at its most permeable," Cassandra explained. "The potion does something similar to whoever drinks it - it temporarily blurs the line. We're not dead, but we aren't completely alive either."

"That's… incredible," Cedric said.

"By itself, it's a nice trick. What we're going to do with it, that's going to be incredible. Come on,"

The next step of the ritual required a runecaster to walk counter-clockwise along the edges of the clearing, carving runes on tree trunks with a silver blade.

"Rhaido," Cassandra murmured solemnly as she carved. "The rune of travel, that symbolizes the journey to the afterlife. It can be used to bind the dead to this world, but tonight we use it to free them. Perthro, that can provide or open a barrier to the realm of the dead, and make one confront their regrets one last time. Uruz, to strengthen a summons; eihwaz, for liberation from the fear of death; soliwo, for enlightenment and redemption."

After finishing the task, Cassandra contemplated her runework. In every tree she'd marked, she'd drawn the five runes at equidistance to form the shape of a pentagram. There had been no thought behind the action - it had simply felt right to; and looking at them now, she saw that it was. A shiver ran down her spine. Many wizards limited their magic to such mundane spells, they lost sight of the truly extraordinary things they could do; not her.

Silently, she offered her hand to Cedric, who interlaced his fingers with hers. Everything around her felt cold and numb, but Cedric's body temperature matched hers. In that moment, he was the only thing that felt real. She led them towards the center of the clearing where the enchanted bonfire still burned black, stopping to grab a small velvet bag and the masks she'd bought at Borgin and Burkes before the beginning of term. Hers was made of dragonhide, onyx black, and molded to resemble the long beak and feathered top of a raven's head; Cedric's was made of bone and had the shape of an animal skull from which two large spiraled horns protruded.

Once they had their masks on, she looked at Cedric again. She took in his naked body, the golden hairs on his chest and between his legs, the way the shadows cast by the black flames danced against the unearthly glow the potion had given to his skin, his eyes gazing at her from behind the beastlike mask.

"You look wild," he said, stealing the words from her mouth. He ran a knuckle softly over her jaw, took a lock of her dark tresses between his fingers and ran them down until the end of her hair, right against the curve of her hip. "Untamed."

"I love you," she said with conviction, staring into his eyes.

Cedric smiled sweetly, as if it made perfect sense that she had chosen this moment to say those words. "And I love you," he answered.

"Sometime soon, we'll make love," Cassandra said. "And it will probably involve a ritual circle, and runes, and it will attune our magic. I'll ruin you for anyone else."

"You already have."

Cassandra squeezed his hand, then turned to the enchanted bonfire. "After I end the first half of the invocation, you throw the bones into the flames."

Cedric nodded, and she started chanting:

"The harvest has ended, and the fields are bare.

The earth has grown cold, and the land is empty.

Death lingers over us, keeping a watchful eye;

it waits patiently, for eternity is theirs.

We call upon you, Death!

You who guard the afterlife,

and guide the dead on their final journey.

At this time of cold and dark,

we honour you, and ask that you come to us.

Help us guide the regretful spirits who once evaded you."

Cedric tossed the bones into the fire, suddenly the entire clearing was engulfed by flames. The Forbidden Forest was kept from burning in a furious black inferno only by the protective circle that surged as soon as the magic fire licked against Cassandra's runes. The flames were retreated to the bonfire, leaving charred soil and plants in their wake. If it weren't for the suspended state Cassandra and Cedric were in, they would've burned as well.

The fire was now burning pearl white, the runes in the trees glowing in the same tone. Cassandra closed her eyes and returned to her chanting, directing the magic coursing through her body and infusing it with her will:

"O great flame that burns so bright,

we ask you to be a beacon on this night.

May you light the path to rueful spirits,

that they come see what's ahead.

Shine until Death takes their hand,

and lead them to the afterlife.

With your light, bring them to us!

So we can give them peace;

so that they may take their final journey.

She heard Cedric gasp and opened her eyes. The clearing was now filled with dozens of ghosts, all staring at them.

"With what purpose do you call us here?" A glum priest asked. He took in her corvid mask and Cedric's animal skull and his face soured in distaste. "Are you Necromancers?"

"I have no interest in raising the dead," Cassandra answered. "You are here because instead of dying, you chose an impoverished simulacrum of life, and have come to regret your decision not to move on. You can't experience physical pleasure; your minds cannot evolve beyond what it was during your lifetime; and everyone you once loved is long gone."

"And ye mean to rub our noses in it, do ye?" A ragged man wearing shackles said.

"We mean to give you a second chance to move on to the next dimension. This is a Crossing Ritual," Cassandra said.

A beautiful young woman in a 17th century gown started sobbing. "I- I've been waiting for so long." The other ghosts turned to her, and she continued speaking through tears. "My mother used to perform these. For decades now, I've been waiting and waiting, but no one…"

"You have a chance tonight. In the night when the barrier between the land of the living and the land of the dead is at its thinnest, we've called for Death, and it has answered, and opened a pathway. Still, the choice is yours," Cassandra said.

"How?" A knight with a sword sticking out of his breastplate asked eagerly. "How do we cross?"

"We walk through the flames," the girl in 17th century garb said. "It's a temporary veil to the afterlife."

"How do we know you're not lying?" The ghost of an old woman asked. "This could all be a trick."

"I assure you we mean you no harm, ma'am," Cedric said reassuringly.

The crone still looked skeptical, Cassandra scoffed. "You're free to float back from where you came from. You wasted your chance at eternal peace once, it matters little to me if you waste it again. But what's the worst that can happen if you try? You're already dead."

"I'll do it," the ghost of the sobbing young woman said. "I want to, please. I miss mother, and father, and my aunt and cousins. I want to see them again, please."

Cassandra looked at Cedric, they took a step away from each other, leaving space for the ghosts to walk between them into the white fire. The young woman paused in front of them and started to cry again.

"Thank you. To both of you, thank you so much."

When the spirit passed through the flames without coming out at the other side of the bonfire, the ghosts started murmuring amongst themselves. They glided into the fire one by one, some with concern, others with obvious relief and even joy. What they all shared in their expressions, however, was hope.

In the end, only one spectre remained in the clearing, a gaunt ghost covered in silver bloodstains, carrying heavy chains.

"Baron?" Cassandra asked, recognizing her House ghost.

"You would be one of mine," the Bloody Baron said. His voice was low and raspy, as if it had gone unused for too much time.

"The corvid mask… Miss Lestrange? And I assume you are Mr. Diggory."

"Yes, sir," Cedric said.

"This ritual hasn't been done in these woods in a long time… too long," the ghost said.

"Do you wish to cross, Baron?" Cassandra said. "I'll explain your disappearance to the Headmaster, if so."

The Bloody Baron sighed wistfully, looking at the fire. "There is only one thing I wish more."

"What is it?" Cedric said.

"Atonement. I once committed a most disgraceful sin, for which I took my own life in regret. But the one I've sinned against has yet to find peace, and as long as she roams this world, so must I," The Bloody Baron said mournfully. "But let not my misery take away from the venerable feat of magic you performed today. In these troubled times, our House will need a witch like you to guide your peers, Miss Lestrange."

"What do you mean, in these troubled times?" Cassandra asked, curious.

"Forgive me, you must have been here for hours, of course you would not have received word of it yet. I'm afraid the Chamber of Secrets has been opened."


	6. Werewolf

Cassandra was at the top of the Astronomy Tower, her favourite place at Hogwarts, sitting with her back against a wall and Klaus perched on her shoulder. She liked the spot because it was quiet and secluded, the long and numerous flights of stairs leading up to it making it unlikely she would have any unwanted company. For the last thirty minutes, she'd been trying to focus on her Occlumency exercises, to no avail. Every attempt to empty her mind of cursory thoughts in order to erect her barriers ended with her mulling over the same question she'd been pondering for the past couple of months: _What is going on?_

Nearly two months had passed since Samhain, and from the night the Chamber of Secrets had allegedly been opened until now, two muggleborn students, one ghost and one cat had been found petrified at Hogwarts. Some days, Cassandra believed she could smell the cloying stench of fear wafting in the air. Most students were terror-stricken, and even her fellow Slytherins were subdued. Sure, there was still plenty of posturing and speculation about the identity of the heir going on in their common room, but the conversations were filled with tension like Cassandra had never seen before. Despite the disdainful attitude of most Slytherins towards muggles and muggleborns, less than a tenth of all Hogwarts students - more likely half that humber - could actually claim to be purebloods.

A little over a year ago, Cassandra wouldn't have been distressed by the news of an ancient evil attacking students of muggle heritage at Hogwarts. It wasn't her job to ensure the personal safety of her peers, and she didn't have to worry about being a potential target, since she was able to trace her lineage through millennia. Then, her only concern would've been Adrian, and it wouldn't have been too hard to make sure her half-blood friend didn't walk around the castle alone. But now she worried about Cedric, and Neville Longbottom who was practically a squib, and Cedric's stupid Hufflepuff friends who were so nice to her. She needed to know who and what was behind the attacks, so she could protect her people.

"You know," she had said to Cedric one afternoon while they dangled their feet in the waters of the Black Lake, enjoying a rare sunny November morning. "I would sleep much better at night if I was still apathetic towards everyone in this school."

"But you're not," Cedric had said smugly, looking up at her from where his head was resting on her lap.

"And whose fault is that?" She had replied, the annoyance in her tone almost convincing.

Cassandra was not afraid, but she did feel a great unease.

The unpleasant thoughts of Cedric getting hurt put her on edge. She tried to quell her concerns by reminding herself her boyfriend had two magical parents, which made him pureblood enough for most, but she didn't know what standards Slytherin's heir or his monster had for blood purity. She detested being in this state of constant anxiety. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on something else, her mind strayed towards the message daubed on the wall during Samhain: 'Enemies of the Heir, beware.' She was.

She heard a bell ringing and got to her feet, hurried to her dorm room to pick up her trunk, then walked with Adrian to the crowded entrance hall. Panic was so widespread at Hogwarts, there had almost been a stampede to book seats on the Express so students could go home for the winter holidays. Outside, the horseless carriages that would take students to Hogsmead station stood waiting. Cassandra, Adrian, Cedric and his friend Mike Preece climbed into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling its way down the track toward Hogsmead station.

"Thanks for letting me come with you guys," Preece said.

"Of course," Cassandra said absent-mindedly. She was thinking about her cousin Draco, and his decision to stay at Hogwarts for Yule. He had been strutting around school with his chest puffed lately, taunting others about the attacks, but she didn't know if that was only because of his general smugness and the pureblood supremacist beliefs he parroted from his father, or if he knew something she didn't.

She jumped on her seat when she felt someone kicking her shin.

"We're here," Adrian said to her, opening the carriage door.

"Are you okay?" Cedric asked her quietly once they were in their train compartment.

"Yes. Just thinking," Cassandra replied. She grabbed his hand and put his arm around her shoulders, resting her head against his side, he kissed her temple.

"So… are we talking about it?" Adrian asked after a while.

"Must we, Adrian?" Cassandra sighed.

"Talking about what?" Preece asked.

"The Chamber of Secrets," Cedric said to his friend.

"Oh. It's really a terrible thing, what happened to Justin. And Colin Creevey, the boy from Gryffindor. And Nick and poor Mrs. Noris," Preece replied, somber. "Do you think… do you guys think it's Harry Potter? The heir?"

"I definitely do, Lestrange doesn't, Diggory declines to comment," Adrian answered.

"I'd rather not pass judgement without having all the facts," Cedric said. "It's not fair."

"Come on!" Adrian said. "He was found with the bodies in two of the three scenes, and he's a parselmouth. It has to be him."

"It doesn't make sense, Adrian," Cassandra said for what it felt like the hundredth time. "He's gone against the Dark Lord twice now, he runs around with a muggleborn girl and a Weasley, and I told you I've looked at his lineage and he's no more a descendant of Salazar Slytherin than you."

"And he's a Gryffindor," Cedric offered.

"Maybe he's a dark wizard playing the long game. Hiding in plain sight," Adrian insisted. "Maybe that's how he managed to defeat you-know-who back then."

"He was one year old," Cassandra replied, exasperated.

The debate went on until the train pulled into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross station, by the end of it, no one had been any more or less convinced of anything.

"I'll see you here on the 2nd," Cassandra said to Adrian. "Mimi will deliver your Yule present."

"Thank you," Adrian said, pretending he couldn't see his parents waiting for him. "I'll need something to look forward to."

"There he is - Adrian!" Mrs. Pucey called out.

"Two more years," Cassandra whispered.

Her friend closed his eyes, took a fortifying breath and walked over to his parents.

"Babe, is that your grandfather?" Cedric said.

Cassandra was about to say of course not, that her grandfather always sent Mimi to retrieve her from the station, when she saw Cygnus Black III was in fact there, standing besides Mr. and Mrs. Diggory.

"Huh. That's odd," she said.

"God, let's go before my dad can do too much damage," Cedric said.

"Grandfather, Mr. and Mrs. Diggory," Cassandra greeted the adults.

"Ced, my boy!" Mr. Diggory said happily, pulling his son in for a hug. Cedric hugged him back heartily.

Mrs. Diggory smiled at Cassandra warmly. "It's wonderful to see you, dear."

"You as well, Mrs. Diggory. Is everything alright, grandfather?"

"Yes, Cassandra. I had some free time. Nice to see you, Cedric. You look well," her grandfather said.

"Thank you, sir. Nice to see you as well," Cedric said, shaking hands with the older wizard.

"My granddaughter informed me you participated on your first Samhain ritual with her. How did you find it?"

Cedric pondered the question. "Edifying, sir."

"Yes, I should think so. I hope you understand what a privilege it is to be part of a Crossing Ritual. I, myself, have never attended one. We haven't had a talented enough runecaster in the family for almost two hundred years," the Black patriarch said.

"Sounds like a very impressive ritual. You'll have to tell us all about it on Christmas morning!" Mr. Diggory said to Cassandra.

"Christmas morning?" She asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear, we meant to ask you first, of course," Mrs. Diggory replied. "Your grandfather said your Yule celebration happens on the evening of the 24th, so I extended an invitation to the two of you to spend the 25th with us."

"I won't be available, but I told them you're welcome to accept it," her grandfather said.

Cassandra looked at Cedric, who seemed pleased by the idea. "Sure. I would love to."

"Wonderful! We'll be expecting you around…" said Mrs. Diggory.

"Eight?" Cassandra tried.

"Eight would be perfect," Mrs. Diggory smiled.

When she steadied herself after arriving home via sidelong apparition, Cassandra turned to her grandfather. "How much would you pay me to convince the Diggorys to never invite you to anything ever again?" She asked with a grin.

"Name your price," Cygnus said, serious.

Cassandra chuckled.

"I missed being home," she said, looking around the foyer. Mimi would most likely be in her quarters, waiting for her.

"A lot has happened. We need to talk, child," her grandfather said.

"About the Chamber of Secrets business?"

"About that, yes. Other things as well."

Cassandra sighed. "Can have these discussions after Yule? I understand they are most likely pressing matters, but I could use one day to just… be."

"Tomorrow after we burn the Yule Log, then."

She nodded.

"There is only one matter I can't postpone. You may go to your room now, but find me in the laboratory before dinner."

"I will," Cassandra said, kissing her grandfather on the cheek and running upstairs. "Mimi, I'm home!"

Later, after Mimi had bathed her - "Mistress Cassandra will let Mimi scrub the Hogwarts filth off her!" - brushed and braided her hair, and they had lied down face to face on Cassandra's bed so she could share with her house-elf all that had happened to her while she'd been away, the young witch made her way to the topmost floor of Lestrange Manor.

Cygnus' laboratory was cold and dimly-lit, jars of ingredients and bottled potions filled shelves upon shelves, and carefully preserved age-old tomes could be found organized by author on a bookcase in the back of the room. The wizard brewed silently and methodically, not once looking up from the potion he was stirring, even though he was aware of his granddaughter's presence at the door. Used to his circumspect demeanor, Cassandra walked up to his side and peered into the cauldron, taking in the scent of fresh tobacco and rust stemming from it.

"Mandrake restorative draught?"

"It should be done within the week," her grandfather said.

Cassandra leaned her hip against the mahogany wood workstation. Providing the school with the healing potion that would restore the victims of Slytherin's heir to their un-petrified state would buy them a lot of good will. "Are we offering it to Dumbledore?"

"I believe you were the one who placed an embargo on talks of such matters for the day," he said in a slightly condescending tone.

Cassandra stared patiently at her grandfather's profile, and did not give him the rude reply she would've given anyone else.

"What I have discovered about the ongoing situation at Hogwarts makes any possible involvement on our part complicated," said the wizard, gravely. "I will tell you everything tomorrow, and we will decide together how to proceed."

She nodded. "What did you want to discuss, then?"

Cygnus finally looked up from his cauldron, meeting his granddaughter's eyes. He crossed his arms in front of his torso, seemingly bracing himself. Whatever he had to say wasn't pleasant. Instinctively, Cassandra crossed her arms around her middle, mirroring his posture.

"In light of what we know is coming in the future, I have been looking to secure a few strategic alliances. I am acting under the assumption this next war will feature the same players as the last one, and knowing now the Dark Lord is not dead, that seems to be a safe bet. The last time… I was not a soldier like your parents were. I was a financier, and I expect the same will be requested of me the next time around. But we both know you won't be able to escape the conflict. So we must ensure you walk into it in the most secure position-"

While he spoke, the words of the prophecy echoed in Cassandra's mind. " _Forced into battle, the war's greatest killer you'll become… Twice you'll lose your family, and twice you'll choose your targets in those you find responsible for the slaughter of your loved ones… Bound in a covenant, only death will undo the knot you join in."_

"-and since werewolves tend to be quite mistrustful, when he suggested a meeting tonight, I accepted it."

"Did you just say werewolves?" Cassandra asked.

"The time for you to be qualmish has long passed, Cassandra," her grandfather said firmly, mistaking her confusion for reproach. "You know werewolves were part of the Dark Lord's ranks during the war. All manners of beasts were. Werewolves, giants, hags. Anything and anyone who had reason to resent the establishment was seen a potential recruit. What was to be done with them after the war was won, that was another matter. But we certainly wouldn't have done what this Ministry has, which is nothing. Letting them live on the outskirts of civilized society, poor, violent, resentful, without prospects or purpose. All creatures, especially the dark ones, must have a purpose if they are to be kept from indulging in their baser natures."

Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle connected in her mind.

"You want their allegiance, the ones who survived. Greyback was never captured by the Ministry. You want them under our banner, so when the Dark Lord returns I have soldiers who'll fight for me. That's the purpose you want to give them."

"Yes, my child. If you must fight, you will not fight alone. I will see that you are protected."

"How do you plan to convince them to do that?" Cassandra asked, but she already knew the answer. "Wolfsbane potion. Money and wolfsbane potion. We'll supply them and get them used to a better life than they've ever enjoyed, and when the war breaks we'll convince them their best hope lies with us."

"With _you_. You are the last Black, Cassandra. Andromeda renounced the family the moment she married, and in an entirely different way, so did Narcissa. I tried my best to exert some measure of influence on Draco's upbringing, but my attempts were fruitless. He's as much a Malfoy as his father is, as his mother chose to become. But you are a Black. A much better one than I or your mother ever managed to be. When I first stepped foot in this house knowing I would be the one to raise you, I made a vow to not repeat the mistakes I made with my daughters. I vowed to Death itself I would not corrupt your mind with the unyielding notions that led the House of Black to self-destruction. Seeing the witch you're growing into, I have no doubt I did the right thing, and what we know of the future only reinforces my belief. It matters not to me which side you will choose to fight for, because I know that no matter the outcome of this war, you will be the one to shape the world after it."

Cassandra was struck speechless at the fervor in her grandfather's eyes and the conviction in his words. "Alright," she said after a while, her resolve to be what he believed she could be solidifying. "Give me the details of the meeting we're having tonight, then. If I am to do all of that, I should probably get started now."

A quarter before midnight, Cygnus and Cassandra stood together at the foyer of Lestrange Manor, ready to apparate. The werewolves had been unwilling to meet with them face to face, and would be sending a wizard to represent them instead, a trusted associate of the pack. Cassandra checked over her boots, her nondescript black robes, her wand in the back pocket of her trousers, the piece of leather that held her hair in a single braid ending right at her lower back, making sure everything was as it should be.

"You know what to do," Cygnus said to her. "He might be dismissive and belligerent, and make ridiculous demands we are not willing to meet. If that is the case, I will reinstate our terms and we will leave. Do not engage him. The thousand galleons and batch of wolfsbane potion I am taking will demonstrate how serious we are, and they will come back with more reasonable terms once the money runs out."

Cassandra nodded. She held on to her grandfather's arm and closed her eyes, reopening them only when she stopped feeling the unpleasant effects of side-along apparition.

They were on the third floor of a decommissioned electrical substation in Lancashire. The building occupied an entire block, and had been abandoned since the 60s. According to her grandfather, the location had been used by Death Eaters during the war. What had once been an oval, spacious meeting room now looked like an abandoned, burned-out shell, as if all the hate and anger of the wizards who'd once dwelled there had turned to fire and smoke and stained the windows and concrete walls forever black. The smell of dust was overwhelming, and there was no light except for the white glow of the full moon that leaked through the sheer plastic that covered the windows.

There was a loud pop, and a wizard appeared in the room ten meters to their left.

If Cassandra had to guess, she'd say the man was in his seventies, about the same age as her grandfather. He was short, with grey hair and tired eyes. He seemed to startle when he saw her. "Mr. Black. I- I thought the agreement was we'd meet alone."

"This is my granddaughter. The talk we are having tonight concerns her as much as it does me, Mr. Balfe."

"I- please, Jude is fine," the man said, his eyes fixed on Cassandra. "May-maybe we should reschedule. The pack does not take well to change in plans. She's just a girl, she shouldn't be here for this."

"Nonsense, we will get right to it. I have the money and the wolfsbane potion with me, as a sign of good faith. You tell the pack there is more from where this is coming from. I have business interests abroad that have need of men of their talents. Overseeing deliveries, collecting payments, nothing too complicated. It is a most simple arrangement."

"Right, well. That seems agreeable. You can hand it over and we'll leave at once, I have somewhere I need to be."

Cassandra watched the man closely. The night was cold and still a bead of sweat ran down his forehead. He kept glancing at her while addressing her grandfather. They'd been expecting the pack representative to be defiant, belligerent even, but the wizard seemed… nervous. She felt something going cold in her gut.

"Something's wrong," she whispered to her grandfather. Cygnus didn't hear her. "Something's wrong," she repeated loudly.

Both wizards turned to her with surprise, and Mr. Balfe started trembling.

"You have to understand, you weren't supposed to be here. It was supposed to be your grandfather, just him," the man said.

Right then, the piercing howl of a werewolf echoed through the concrete walls of the abandoned building. Multiple howls answered the first call.

"What did you do?!" Cygnus demanded loudly, pointing his wand at the other wizard while looking around, trying to ascertain where the howls were coming from.

"I'm sorry, I didn't have any choice. They have my grandson. G-Greyback said they would kill him if I didn't do this. You shouldn't have brought her here."

Cygnus grabbed Cassandra's arm roughly and tried to apparate them away, nothing happened.

"Bring it down!" Cygnus yelled, blasting the other wizard from where he stood. He hit a wall and crumpled to the ground. "Bring the anti-disapparition jinx down NOW! Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? I will end you!"

"I'm so sorry," the old man cried out at Cassandra, grabbing what looked like a spoon out of his pocket and disappearing into thin air. A portkey.

The sound of snarls and paws hitting concrete jerked them into action.

"They're in the building," Cygnus said. He grabbed Cassandra's arm roughly, bringing her out of the room with him. He was looking for the stairs. "You have to make it out, do you hear me? No matter what, you get out. I should have known. I should've-"

"No, I am not leaving. We'll fight-"

"It's a full moon, Cassandra. They'll kill you or they'll turn you. There are six floors in this building, and the howling seems to be coming from below." Cygnus finally found the emergency door, opening and locking it behind them with a spell, and they started running up the flights of stairs. "You escape. You escape and you survive, do you hear me?"

A loud booming noise interrupted him. Something was slamming against the door they had crossed less than a minute ago. A shiver ran down Cassandra's spine. They climbed the steps even faster. With another boom, the horrific form of a werewolf broke through the door and launched itself at them. Cygnus and Cassandra fired spells at the same time. The werewolf dodged the green light of the killing curse that flew from Cygnus' wand into the path of Cassandra's entrail-expelling curse. The beast cried out when its intestines plopped on the floor from the large vertical incision across its middle. Still, it took another step in their direction.

"Caro Inflamare! _"_ Cassandra shouted, setting the injured werewolf on fire. Another beast emerged snarling from the place the door had been.

"Go! I'll hold them back!" Cygnus said, firing spells at the creature. Cassandra hesitated, and he yelled again. "I SAID GO NOW! THAT'S AN ORDER!"

Cassandra started running. The noises of her grandfather's battle echoed up the stairs but she didn't look back. ' _I have to get out,_ ' the witch repeated in her mind, holding her wand tightly in her clammy hand. ' _I have to get out, I have to get out.'_ She heard a visceral human scream and started crying as she climbed three steps at a time, as fast as she could. Her grandfather was dead, or as good as.

At the top of the stairs there was a metal door, which she guessed led to the roof. Not wanting to risk it being locked, she blasted it open with an exploding charm. The explosion threw her back a couple of steps, but she caught herself on the handrail. Her ears were ringing. Suddenly, she felt a piercing pain in her ankle as her feet were taken from under her. Her face hit the edge of a step and she cried out, feeling something breaking. Her orbital bone, probably. Unable to see clearly through her fuzzy vision and the blood pouring down her brow, she started firing blasting spells aimlessly, but even as her assailant jerked back it wouldn't let go of her ankle. She tried a severing charm and finally broke free. She followed it with another string of exploding charms. Satisfied the beast was dead, she wiped the blood off her eyes and propped herself up, limping to the roof.

She limped in a circle, trying desperately to think of a way to escape the rooftop as the cold wind whipped at her. Even if the anti-disapparition jinx didn't extend to the roof, she couldn't risk apparating without badly splinching herself, and a fall through six floors would likely wound her badly enough to make her easy pickings for anything still inside the building. After tripping on something, she decided she couldn't delay checking out her injured ankle any longer. Attached to her leg was a severed furry arm. It looked like a bizarre stage prop. She wanted to laugh, and to cry. ' _Not a bite,'_ she said to herself. _'Not a bite, you're not a werewolf. Just a fucking paw.'_ She bent down to dislodge the claws that had shredded skin and fat and muscle from her ankle with a small cry of pain, throwing it away.

When she stood back up, she found herself looking directly into the eyes of another werewolf. In a fraction of a second she registered the hungry look in its eyes, the fur matted with blood around its jaws and the bulge of its stomach, incongruous against its emaciated frame. The beast howled with the thrill of having its prey cornered.

Cassandra closed her eyes, thinking of everyone she might never see again, of her grandfather, her parents and Cedric and-

"MIMI!" She cried out.

With a crack, her house-elf appeared by her side. Mimi took in her Mistress' torn robes, her injuries and the werewolf lunging at them, grabbed Cassandra's hand and with a nauseating turn, they disapparated away.

As her world turned blurry Cassandra caught one last view of the rooftop of the abandoned electrical substation: of the door she'd blown open, and the trail of blood she'd left behind, and a blur of brown fur - _take us home, Mimi… Please take us home._.. She felt the heavy weight of her legs, the throbbing pain in her left eye, the blood still running down her foot from the torn flesh of her ankle. Her head jerked back, as if she were being pulled in another direction from her long braid, and she focused on the safety of her room.

And then her body hit a soft surface, as if landing on a cloud. She opened her eyes and felt an immense relief when saw she was in her bed. "Mi-"

But Mimi's bulging blue eyes were staring at her with horror. No. Not at her, past her. The witch turned around and screamed when she saw the werewolf had come with them, and was currently laying disoriented behind her. That's what she'd felt tugging at her braid. Cassandra tried to back away from it but accidentally put her weight on her injured leg, falling from the bed onto the ground. The werewolf shook itself, focusing on her again and let out a monstrous snarl. Cassandra dragged herself back by her elbows, trying desperately to locate her wand. She saw it was on the bed, right under the werewolf's hindlegs.

The beast pounced at her.

Then Mimi shouted, "The filthy mutt will not harm Mimi's witch!"

There was a loud bang, and the beast was thrown off-course. In a flash, it hit a wall and then leveraged its weight to lunge again, this time in the house-elf's direction. Cassandra could only scream and watch, horrified, as the monster sank its fangs into Mimi's small body.

' _NO!'_ Cassandra wanted to shout, but she didn't have any control over her voice. While the werewolf mindlessly ripped Mimi apart, she crawled towards the bed, reaching for her wand. Just before her fingers closed around it, the werewolf grabbed her, sinking its claws deeply into her flesh, between her right breast and her clavicle, then hurled her at the other side of the room. She felt her ribs breaking when her back hit a cabinet and screamed in pain once again. She laid on the ground, surrounded by broken glass, blood spurting from the deep gashes on her chest forming a puddle underneath her right shoulder.

She felt like prey. Like meat. She turned her head to the side and came face to face with Mimi's mangled body. A hot streak of tears ran down her face, and the pain she felt for the only creature that had loved and cared for her from the moment she'd come into the world eclipsed everything else. She shouldn't have called for Mimi, good and sweet and devoted Mimi. She should've fought for her life in that rooftop by herself. From the edge of her vision she saw the werewolf - her grandfather's killer, Mimi's killer - standing right above her, and all the sadness was burned out of her. All there was left was bright, burning hatred.

With a snarl, the beast brought its claws down. Cassandra rolled onto her side and the werewolf's paw smashed on the floor, its claws embedding deep in the wood, centimeters away from her head. The beast snarled again, this time with annoyance, and yanked its arm back trying to free itself.

Cassandra used the oportunity to close her hand around a shard of glass and bury it with all her strength into the beast's groin; the werewolf hunched forward with a yelp of pain and surprise. She grabbed another piece of glass and stabbed the creature in the face repeatedly, trying to slash its eyes, its snout, its ears, whatever she could reach. The glass was cutting her own hand down to the bone, but she didn't care. She was delirious with pain and blood loss. She felt her arm being slammed against the floor, and involuntarily let go of her makeshift weapon when her wrist was shattered. With her good leg, she kicked the werewolf in the crotch, right where she'd buried the first shard of glass. It backed off her and curled on the floor, crying out in pain, but she knew it'd recover quickly.

She looked around for another weapon. Her wand was still on her bed. If only she could get up and grab it. But her body was too weak to respond to that command. She racked her brain for any kind of defensive move, anything that her grandfather or Ivanovich had taught her that might help her, but to perform any spell she'd need her wand. She recalled all the hours she'd spent this year trying to accomplish wandless summoning, with no success. But she had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted her wand right then, as she wanted a tool to fight back, to get revenge for her grandfather and Mimi.

She visualized her wand in its familiar place on her right hand and poured all her magic, all the anger, grief and pain she was feeling into her summons. _'I need my wand. I need my wand, I need my wand, I NEED MY WAND. ACCIO WAND!'_

It was like a volcanic eruption, like something breaking open inside of her and releasing liquid fire into her veins. Her wand was in her bloodied hand. She knew immediately how to end this. When the werewolf crouched on top of her again, opening its filthy jaw to bite her, she took her wand from where she'd been hiding it underneath her and pressed it against the beast's throat, channeling her magic and willpower in the same way she'd done previously to force the beast to transform back into its human form with a homorphus charm.

A haggard young man with a gaunt face and an unkempt beard looked down at Cassandra, naked and confused. They locked eyes, and just as he'd had enough time to register the power behind what the witch had done and tried to move away, she clasped her legs around his waist to keep him in place and drew her wand across his throat with a single word in her mind: _'Diffindo'._

The blood pulsed out as the man grabbed at his neck, but Cassandra wouldn't let him go. The two rolled over, her on top, holding him down. The position was intimate, in the dark they could've been mistaken for lovers. The man thrashed violently, making one more try for freedom and the two of them rolled back around, him on top of her again. There was blood everywhere - on the floor, on the walls, all over her. Cassandra kept her legs wrapped around the man until he gave one last heave and died on top of her. She smiled, crazed and satisfied.

She pushed him off her and started trying to prop herself up. When she finally managed to stand up, a piercing pain in her chest made her knees buckle. Her head was spinning and she couldn't breathe.

"Hux," Cassandra called out weakly, and the elderly house-elf that had been serving the Lestrange family for three generations appeared in front of her with a crack. "I-" she tried speaking, but coughed out blood instead. "Take me- Cedric's house- I need- It's in-"

She couldn't tell what happened after that. She kept trying to breath, but with every breath came a fresh wave of pain, and she was choking on her own blood. The last thing she remembered was Cedric's stricken face, pale as a ghost, and his arms around her right before her world went black.


	7. On I Go

Cassandra woke with a start three days after her attack, scrabbling at her front to push the werewolf away. Someone took hold of her hands, keeping her still. Then she heard a familiar voice quite clearly.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re safe, Cassandra.”

She felt a light touch to her forehead and tried to brush away the intrusive hand. She forced herself to calm down and opened her eyes, looking at her aunt blearily. 

“What’re you doing here?” she asked, closing her eyes again. She felt as if her head was full of cotton and the bed seemed to keep tilting backwards. 

“You’re my niece. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Narcissa Malfoy replied. 

“Mmfoy,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“‘raitor,” she insisted.

“All right. I’ll go fetch the Healer.”

“Go way,” she said, then passed out again. 

Hours later Cassandra opened her eyes again, staring at the shiny crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. After a minute she turned her head and became aware that she was in a hospital ward. She had a heavy headache and a dull ache in her shoulder. She closed her eyes.

St. Mungo’s, she thought. What am I doing here?

She felt exhausted, could barely get her thoughts in order. Then the memories came rushing back to her. For several seconds she was seized by panic as the fragmented images of how she had nearly died came flooding over her. Then she clenched her teeth and concentrated on breathing. 

She was alive. She didn’t know how but she was alive — she just wasn’t sure where she’d been. It took her a moment to decide whether or not she was happy to be there and what it all meant. A werewolf had tried to kill her, she was sure of that, but she was still alive. 

She could not piece together all that had happened, but she summoned up a foggy mosaic of images from the electrical station and how she and her grandfather had tried to escape. Her grandfather. Was he alive as well? 

She could not clearly remember what had happened with the werewolf that’d followed her to the Manor. She had a memory of looking into his human eyes and blood pouring out of his throat.

Suddenly she remembered having seen Cedric. Perhaps she had dreamed him, but she remembered a living room — it must’ve been the Diggorys’ living room — and she thought she remembered him coming towards her. She must have been hallucinating. 

The events of that night seemed already like the distant past, or possibly an absurd nightmare. She concentrated on the present and opened her eyes again. 

She raised her hand and felt her right shoulder. There were bandages. Then she remembered it all. Nervous old man Balfe. Fenrir Greyback’s betrayal. Mimi being torn to pieces. She had summoned her wand and performed the Homorphus Charm. She wouldn’t have thought of it if it wasn’t for Gilderoy fucking Lockhart and his stupid reenactments in class. That was why she was still alive. 

She had been awake only a few minutes when a Healer noticed her. 

“Hello, my name is Myrna. Do you know where you are?”

“St. Mungo’s,” she said hoarsely. The stench of the place was unmistakable. Like death and regrets and the sweaty odor of desperation. Not somewhere she would ever choose to visit, let alone stay. “Could I have some water?”

The Healer gave her a cup. As she swallowed the water she saw another Healer appear on her left side. 

“Hello, Cassandra. I’m Hyppocrates Smethwyck. You survived a werewolf attack, you’re at the Dai Llewellyn ward for creature-induced injuries. There is no need to be afraid.”

She asked the question that’d been making her insides churn. “Was I bit? I fought the best I could but it kept… it kept coming at me.”

“So you remember what happened.” 

“Was I bit?” she asked again, more forcefully. 

“No, you were not. You were in bad shape when you were brought to us, but we trust you will make a full recovery. Unfortunately the scratches on your right shoulder and ankle will leave permanent scars, but there should be no loss of function.”

She absorbed this information, relief washing over her. She was still human. 

“And my grandfather? Is he alive?”

The Healer hesitated for a moment. “I should let your family come in so you can speak about that.”

Cassandra’s heart sank and her vision blurred with tears she refused to shed. Her grandfather had once told her it could be dangerous to ask a question when you already knew the answer. 

“Who’s out there?”

“I believe your aunts have been taking turns, as well as the young man who brought you in and his parents,” Healer Smethwyck replied. “I’d like to examine you for a moment. Then I will send them in.” 

After examining her the Healers left, closing the curtains around her to give her some measure of privacy. She heard a door open. Footsteps then the silence returned, but it was spoiled by the knowledge she wasn’t truly alone. She could hear the sound of quill scratching parchment to her right. Someone coughed to her left and she realized there were two of them. Strangers behind the curtains. 

“Who is she?” asked a woman’s voice.

“The Lestrange girl. Haven’t you read the Daily Prophet? It’s all over the papers,” replied another woman. “A pack of werewolves kidnapped her, stashed her in some abandoned building in Lancashire. Her grandfather agreed to pay the ransom but instead of giving the girl back the beasts decided to keep the ransom and kill them both. They shred him to pieces, and a house-elf, and nearly her too. She barely made it out alive.”

“Poor love, what a mess.”

“It’s karma if you ask me. Everyone remembers what her family did. What goes around comes back around.”

Inside her head, Cassandra screamed. She threw the curtains open and started firing spells at the woman. 

_Langlock. Ulcus Sanguis. Exosso. Mutatio Skullus. Confringo._

She shouted those words over and over but they ignored her, because on the outside she was silent. On the outside she was balling her hands into firsts instead of reaching for her wand on the bedside cabinet. 

She wanted to see them so she could know who they were. She wanted to sit up, reach out and strike the woman who’d spoken of her family. To hug the one that’d felt sorry for her. She wanted to feel something. Anything. Anyone. 

The women left, closing the door behind them, but their words stayed. Cassandra considered them. 

The version of events told by The Daily Prophet wasn’t at all accurate, but she would stick to it. There was no love lost between her family and the DMLE. Were she to tell a tale of impending war and the prophesied return of the Dark Lord they would have her sharing a cell with her parents before she could say ‘Veritaserum’. Nothing could be gained by collaborating with the Ministry. 

More footsteps, a few whispered words, then her favourite aunt stepped through the curtains with her daughter in tow. She sat at the end of the hospital bed and Cassandra was so glad to see her, even if she had not come alone. 

“Hello, dear. How are you feeling?” she said gently, holding Cassandra’s hand. They looked so much alike. They had the same face, the same bearing, the same build. Only her hair was a light soft brown instead of Cassandra’s ink black, and her eyes were wider and kinder. They could easily be mistaken for mother and daughter. 

“I think I’m still in shock,” she answered. “I thought I was going to die.”

“Do you remember what happened yet?” Tonks asked from where she stood behind her mother. Her mother, not Cassandra’s. 

“Nymphadora,” Andromeda chided. Tonks said nothing, but she looked sheepish.

“Bits and pieces,” Cassandra said. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just wanted to hear how you’re doing and make sure everything is going well.”

She stayed silent. It should have been obvious that everything was not going well. 

“The Healers say you’ll be fit to go home tomorrow. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, there are some things we need to discuss. Your grandfather...” 

“I know,” she said, looking away from her aunt. 

She felt her hand being squeezed. She knew her aunt didn’t grieve for the man who’d raised them as she did, but she had loved him once, too.

“Thank you for being here,” she said after a while. “You too, Tonks.”

Her cousin smiled at her in surprise. Her nickname was an olive branch, and the girl took it.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not every day your little cousin kicks a bunch of werewolf ass and lives to tell the tale. You promise one day you’ll tell me how you did it and we’re even.”

“Nymphadora, honestly,” Andromeda said with exasperation, and both girls smiled. 

“One day,” Cassandra agreed. 

“Is there anything you want? Anything you need at all, dear?”

She thought for a moment before speaking again. “How’s Cedric doing?”

“Your young man has been worried sick about you. He didn’t leave your bedside for days, until the Healers made him go home. Between you and me, I think he was driving them a little crazy.”

“He loves me,” she said. She thought about her grandfather and Mimi, the only ones whose love for her she had ever been certain of, and in that moment she didn’t know whether that was a good thing or bad.

They talked for another half-hour, until her eyelids started to feel heavy and she drifted away. 

When Cassandra woke up again Cedric’s hands were holding hers. It felt strong and warm and safe. 

“Hey,” she whispered, not wanting to startle him. 

“Hey,” Cedric answered, sitting up on his chair. One of his hands left hers and came to rest on her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin softly. His eyes were full of relief. “You have no idea how happy I am right now. I love you so much.”

He kissed her on the forehead and she felt his tears wetting her face. 

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” she said, and they looked at each other again. He was crying and now she was crying. He kissed her and she felt real. This was real. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, and she laughed through her tears because he knew her well enough not to ask her if she was fine, and because she was hungry. 

“It’s lunchtime and they left a tray of food for you not too long ago. I bet it’s still warm.”

He took the tray and put it down in front of her. There was chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans. A carton of juice and what looked like pudding. She was hungry but upon seeing what was on offer, was less eager to eat it. Cedric picked up the cutlery and loaded some mash onto a fork. 

“I can do it,” she said.

“Sorry.”

She took the fork from him with a smile. “Thank you.”

She ate most of it, chewing and swallowing small pieces at a time. It didn’t look like much, but as she ate it felt like the best meal of her life. The chicken was overcooked and the potatoes were lumpy, but just to be able to eat and swallow and taste made every mouthful exquisite. Because it meant she was alive. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cedric asked. 

Cassandra shook her head and looked away. “Not here. Not yet.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry about Cygnus. And about Mimi.”

Cassandra felt herself start to fade. 

“They died for me,” she said.

“They loved you. When I saw you… I would’ve done anything to save you.” 

She couldn’t imagine how it must’ve felt, seeing her in the state Cedric did, holding her nearly dead body. She’d lived through a nightmare but Cedric had been trapped outside, forced to watch her live it. He had been through his own personal hell while she’d been unconscious. But it didn’t seem to have changed things for him, not yet at least. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for putting him through all of that and that she loved him too. She said the words over and over in her head until they sounded solid and real. 

“I love you.”

His eyes softened at that and he kissed her again.

Her last visitor of the day was her aunt Narcissa. The blonde woman stood at the edge of her hospital bed, perfectly dressed, perfectly poised. They stared at each other until the older witch spoke. 

“I trust you are feeling better.”

“I am.”

“You did very well.”

Cassandra didn’t know what she meant, so she didn’t say anything.

“Fighting the way you did,” her aunt said. “Your mother would’ve been proud. We’re all proud of you.”

Something loosened in her chest. Narcissa had been the aunt she was close to once, back when she was a toddler with fat cheeks and grubby hands, and her parents were too busy winning a war to pay her much mind. Narcissa had been much more maternal than her older sister, even before she was a mother herself, and her niece had been the main recipient of her motherly affection. It took a lot of love for Cassandra to hate her the way she did. 

Not knowing what else to say, she invited her aunt to sit. 

“The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been poking around since the night of the incident. Rita Skeeter has constructed a story that has seemed to appease the Ministry of Magic for the most part, but the Auror office has been most insistent on talking to you.”

“I won’t talk to them.”

Her aunt nodded. “That would be wise. You should mind what you say in here as well; the walls have ears, and there is little Skeeter wouldn’t do for a front page.” 

“I could always sic you on her.”

The corners of Narcissa’s mouth twisted up in a small smile. “However much I would enjoy that, I believe you are quite capable of handling her yourself, Cassandra.”

There were a few beats of silence. She looked down and wiped away an invisible piece of lint from her lap. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, with grandfather gone.” 

Her aunt came closer and tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, then raised Cassandra’s chin so they were eye-to-eye again. 

“You do the same thing you've been doing since you were a little girl. You keep your head high, and you forge ahead.”


	8. Sullen Girl

When she looked back, even months later, Cassandra found she had only scattered memories of the next few days. It was as though she had been through too much to take in any more. The recollections she did have were upsetting. The worst, perhaps, was returning to Lestrange Manor after being discharged from St. Mungus. 

Hux and Gibbo, the two remaining house elves in her family’s service, had done an excellent job scrubbing her bedroom clean of blood and guts. Were it not for a few details — a missing perfume bottle that’d belonged to her mother, probably broken during the fight; a different Persian rug in place of the old one the DMLE had taken as evidence; a scratch on the back of her bedpost missed during repairs — she might’ve been able to pretend the room was the same as she’d left it every year going back to Hogwarts. 

Cassandra thought of the blood soaking the hardwood floor underneath her broken body, painting it maroon. She thought of Mimi — the startling white of her spine jutting from her back, the stink of wild dogs filling the air. No amount of pretending could erase what had happened there.

She walked to the bathroom, popped open a vial of Calming Drought and drank the potion in one gulp. She ran her hands beneath the faucet, watched the water pour over her fingers until they stopped trembling. 

For the first time in days, she looked at the girl in the water-speckled mirror. She watched herself pull the sleeve of her top down her right shoulder. The scars ran from the curve of her shoulder to just above the swell of her right breast, four angry welts parallel to each other, each about two centimeters wide. The scratches had been deep. She knew she ought to be thankful she hadn’t lost the arm. The knowledge didn’t make the scars look any less ugly. 

“That looks ghastly, girl,” the enchanted mirror tutted, sounding rather displeased.

“I know.”

She put her sleeve back in place and focused on pulling her hair up in a sleek low bun. The severe precision of her center part highlighted the hollowness of her eyes. She looked malnourished, her cheekbones sharp as daggers. Her wounds had healed, but not without cost. 

Without pulling out her wand or uttering a word, she summoned a bandbox from her closet. The simple charm took more focus and effort than much more complicated magic would have, were she using her wand.

It was well known that only the most powerful and disciplined wizards and witches could perform wandless magic reliably. It had taken her weeks to master nonverbal summoning, and before her almost death she had failed entirely to perform a summoning spell wandlessly, despite months of effort. She had always had the discipline, but it had taken a fight for her life for her to be able to summon the willpower necessary to channel her magic without a wand. The skill had saved her life, and no matter how much it drained her, she would continue to practice it until it came to her as naturally as breathing.

She opened the bandbox and took out the black fascinator stored inside, affixed it to the top of her head, brought its netted veil down to cover her face. The hat paired nicely with the black wrist-length gloves and the heavy dress robes she had picked out for herself. It was the costume of a pureblood witch in mourning. 

Her grandfather’s body would be laid to rest that afternoon. There wasn’t a body to bury with Mimi, the numbskulls from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement having taken her remains as evidence. Cassandra did not know how the funeral would affect her, having never buried someone she loved before. She wondered if their deaths would be more real to her once it was over. Though she had moments when the horrible fact of it threatened to overwhelm her, there were long stretches of numbness where she found it difficult to believe they were really gone. 

"It's nearly time," she said to herself a while later, and called for a house-elf to apparate her.

The Black family mausoleum stood magically hidden among the trees, shrubbery and wildflowers that had grown over the wealth of gothic tombs, buildings and memorial statues that made up the burial place known by muggles as Highgate Cemetery, in north London. The entire structure was constructed of black granite, with beautiful leaded glass windows overlooking the crypt. Across the front of the building, a name plate contained the family name and date of birth and death of all members of the House of Black entombed there, their family motto engraved above it — TOUJOURS PUR. 

Cassandra ran her gloved hands across those words, mapping them out with the tip of her fingers. The phrase had been such a constant in her life, she couldn't remember the first time she'd heard it, or had its meaning explained to her, back when she was too young to retain any knowledge of French. It meant: Always pure. 

Her blood might be pure, but her body no longer was. Her skin would forever be marred, scars from cursed wounds never faded. _‘Toujours pur, souillé à jamais’_ , she thought bitterly. Always pure, forever sullied. 

Crossing the mausoleum entrance, she felt the magic inlaid in the building like a live thing. It was defensive magic, hostile and dangerous to anyone who oughtn’t be there, cast and reinforced by generations of Black witches and wizards. It recognized her, just as she recognized it. 

She took her place before his grandfather’s tomb, standing poised in wait of the other mourners. 

Narcissa Malfoy arrived minutes later, Lucius and Draco in tow. Even in repose the blonde witch was a standout, a lily among the reeds, black sunglasses shielding her eyes. They held each other's stare over the body of the man who raised them. Neither of them were in tears. 

A little tufty-haired wizard in plain white robes intoned the traditional funeral platitudes. As the sound of his voice rose and fell, Cassandra heard only snippets, her mind far away. "Family man"... "pillar of the community"... "what it means to be a wizard"... It didn't matter. Those words meant nothing coming from someone who hadn't known Cygnus Black. 

A breeze wafted past Cassandra. She turned her face to face the mausoleum's open brass door, closed her eyes. When she opened them, she saw something she didn't expect: a man, alone on the hillside looking straight at the funeral party. He was standing quite still, hands shoved deep in his pockets. That he could see them meant he was magical. Cassandra squinted, trying to get a better look, but from this distance the man's features were a blur, indistinct. Someone cleared their throat by her side, loudly. She turned to look and was met by Lucius Malfoy's reproachful stare. When she turned back, the man was gone. 

"... Let us bow our heads..." 

Cassandra bowed her head with everyone else, but her eyes remained fixed on the empty hillside. 

After the ceremony ended, Cassandra had one of her house elves take her to Ottery St. Catchpole. The Diggorys had been insistent on checking in on her, and she had promised to visit them as soon as she could. 

“Cedric, she’s here!” Mrs. Diggory called out when Cassandra appeared on their doorstep. The handsome witch smiled warmly at her. “It's so good to see you. I’m so glad you’ve come.”

"It's good to see you as well," she said. To her surprise, she meant it. 

Mrs. Diggory stepped back from the doorstep, Cedric quickly taking her place. Before Cassandra could say anything, he had her enveloped in a hug. She wanted to hug him back, but her arms felt like they were made of lead, hanging limp and heavy at her sides. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of his hands on her back instead, the pleasant scent of soap and boy she could pick up where her nose was buried in the hollow of his throat. Little by little she felt her body relaxing against his. 

"We should step inside, mum's probably got tea waiting for us by now," he said softly, rubbing gentle circles between her shoulder blades. 

She nodded without lifting her head from his chest. It was rude to keep his mother waiting. But they didn’t let go of each other. 

"Okay," Cassandra whispered after a while, bracing herself. "Okay," she repeated and pulled away from his arms.

She followed him into the house, closing the door behind them. It was a modest stone cottage surrounded by a cluster of small hills, neat and cozy. A nice place to grow up in. There were bright orange geraniums planted on the windowsills, and outside the front door lay a mat that read ‘Home Sweet Home’. 

A whitewashed wooden table and matching chairs dominated the kitchen. There were several cookbooks on display on a shelf, and a pretty but unremarkable landscape that seemed to have been painted by a talented amateur hung on the wall. It was a room meant for family, unlike the large, white-tiled kitchens Cassandra was used to, the kind meant for staff. She took a seat at the dinner table and Cedric sat by her side, putting his arm around her chair. Mrs. Diggory didn't pay them any mind as she finished setting the table for afternoon tea with casual flicks of her wand. 

“Where’s Mr. Diggory?” Cassandra asked for politeness’s sake. She lifted the netted veil that covered her face, removed her gloves and placed them on her lap. 

“Oh, Amos’s at the Ministry. Work emergency,” Mrs. Diggory said. Satisfied with the results of her work, she finally took a seat across from the two teenagers. “Please, help yourself, those scones are blueberry.” 

“Thank you,” “Looks lovely, mum,” they said at the same time.

While the teapot floated around the table pouring them all tea, Cedric busied himself tipping three or four savones onto his plate, then onto his girlfriend’s. He did the same with the scones and muffins in front of them. A week ago Cassandra would have smiled and maybe kissed his cheek for his thoughtfulness, but the idea of doing that same thing now was overwhelming, and she found it easier to stare at her plate and avoid his gaze entirely. 

With graceful, practiced movements, she picked up the saucer holding her teacup, placed it in the palm of her left hand and moved it forward to rest on her fingers, which were slightly spread apart, steadying the saucer with her thumb resting on the rim. She held the teacup with her right index finger through the handle, her thumb just above to support the grip and her second finger below the handle for added security. 

_“It is an affectation to raise your little finger, even slightly,”_ she suddenly remembered the sour-faced etiquette tutor from her childhood croaking at her. Merlin, how she’d despised the crone, even at six years old. She'd even glued her perpetually pursed lips shut in a bout of accidental magic once during one of their lessons. Mimi had had to fetch Cygnus from his lab to reverse the spell, and instead of punishing his granddaughter for her mischief, the wizard had remarked upon the strength of the magic she’d performed, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. He’d been proud of her. 

And then, as she finished reminiscing, without warning, the dreadful truth swept over her, more completely and undeniably than it had until now. Cygnus was dead, gone... And so was Mimi. She pressed down the hurt blooming inside her chest, willing it to subside, blinking rapidly to keep herself from crying. The world had no use for her tears. There would be no waking from her nightmare, and words of comfort would change nothing; the last and greatest of her protectors had died, and she was more alone than she had ever been before. 

“Cassandra,” Cedric said in an undertone, rousing her from the reverie in which she was sitting with glazed eyes. Both Diggorys were looking at her with identical frowns of concern. She realized her hands were trembling again. 

“Could I bother you for some firewhisky, Mrs. Diggory?” she asked a little shakily. “For medicinal purposes.”

Mrs. Diggory startled at the request, then her expression softened. “Of course, dear. I suppose if any fifteen year old has ever earned the right to some Blishen’s, you have.” 

She summoned a bottle of firewhisky from a kitchen cabinet, uncorked it and poured some in the girl’s teacup, as well as her own, passing over her son’s without comment.

Cassandra thanked her and drank. 

The liquor warmed her throat. It seemed to set her insides aflame, burning away the pain and sense of hopelessness, filling her with something akin to calm. 

“I wanted to apologize. For coming here that night.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Cedric said at once. 

“I should’ve gone to St. Mungus. I had no right to drop in on you in that state.”

“I don’t blame you, Cassandra.” Mrs. Diggory assured her. “I understand you didn’t… You didn’t feel as if you had anyone else to go to.”

She could've snorted at how pathetic that made her sound. And yet it wasn’t far from the truth. Had she gone to the Malfoys or the Tonks, her aunts would’ve done their very best to keep her alive, but her choice would be perceived as a declaration of… something, by her blood relations as well as outsiders. Knowing what she did about the future, she wasn't prepared to pick a side just yet. But politics wasn’t why she had come to the Diggorys that night. She'd thought she was going to die, and had wanted to see Cedric one last time. 

She felt another pang in her chest, and poured some more tea for something to do, topping it with a dash of firewhisky. As she drank, she inched her knee closer to her boyfriend’s until they were touching. A small gesture, and the biggest one she could muster then. He turned his head to look at her and without meeting his gaze she pressed against him a little more firmly, willing him to understand. _I'm sorry. I need you. I love you._ He squeezed her shoulder, quick and reassuringly, and she chose to believe he had. 

“Has the matter of your guardianship been settled yet?” Mrs. Diggory asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the table. 

“I have until the end of term to decide between my aunts or choose another magically-capable adult.” 

“That’s good, that they’re giving you some time to think it over."

Cassandra nodded. She had fought for the right to choose her own guardian once, back when she was a little girl young enough to be molded into someone else’s vision of what the last standing Lestrange heir ought to be like. She’d been a prize worth fighting over then, unconquered territory. It had been the calling card of skepticism plus a childish instinct to take her parents' every word as gospel that had made her distrust the Ministry and won her the privilege of choice. Now that same privilege felt more like a burden. 

“I don’t mean to overstep, but I want you to know you can count on us for anything you need,” Mrs. Diggory said. Her tone was careful, neutral, but her eyes showed she was brimming with compassion. 

“Thank you,” Cassandra said, not knowing how else to respond. 

“Right. I’ll go tend to the garden and give the two of you some time alone. Be good.” 

“We will, mum.” 

There was a beat of silence after Mrs. Diggory left the kitchen. Cassandra could see the gears turning inside Cedric’s head. It was in his nature to try to support and comfort others through their struggles, and he’d been working overtime with her recently. It made her feel grateful and ashamed. 

“You want to go up to my bedroom? You can see the really cool Ballycastle Bats poster I got when I was 12. It really brings the whole room together.”

She shook her head and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m a Magpies fan.”

He put his arm around her. “Right. How could I’ve forgotten that.” 

“Can I help?” he asked softly. “Can I do anything?”

She shook her head again and Cedric hugged her even closer to him. 

“We’re going back to school tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be good for you. You’ll have plenty of things to distract yourself with, take your mind off all of this. We can practice quidditch every day, we’ll go into the Forbidden Forest to search for unicorns again if you want to. I bet Klaus misses you.”

She nodded, thinking about being back at Hogwarts. She would have to act normal, pretend nothing had happened. But Cassandra knew that wouldn’t be a problem. She’d been doing it her whole life.


End file.
